Family Ties
by Ali989969
Summary: A/U. In a world without Voldemort, blood prejudice is still rampant. Pureblood wills can dictate lives from beyond the grave. Lucius Malfoy makes a mistake that echoes through the years. Obsessed!Draco DM/HG, BZ/HG, LM/NM, SB/OC Told from multiple POVs.
1. Prologue

**AN: So I've been working on this since September of last year. It grabbed me when I read one of the many "Hermione-lost-pureblood-Blaise/Theo-twin" stories and wondered. I am a H-U-G-E Dramione fan, but I also like a little darkness. There is no Voldemort in my world, therefore James and Lily never died, Harry was just plain ol' Harry, and lots of things that shaped and influenced the canon characters (owned by JKR) didn't happen in my world. However, blood prejudice is still an issue.**

**Mucho thanks to both kjwrit for prereading and making me laugh with her comments and realjena for betaing the **

**heck out of these chapters for me. Both are awesome ladies. Enjoy and please let me know what you think…**

_**PROLOGUE**_

**Lucius POV (September 1979)**

I pace the hall, waiting for the medi-witch to tell me that my child has been born. Narcissa has been through this twice already… but she doesn't remember that. The power behind my _o__bliviate_ is specific enough to erase her previous pregnancies.

Damn my father. His will states that unless a male heir is born first, the entirety of his estate will go to the next male in the Malfoy line, my cousin Tiberius. It's never been questioned, as my grandfather had the same codicil… and a female hasn't been first-born to a Malfoy in five centuries. Until I married.

My faithful house elf Druther tiptoes behind me, shadowing my pacing, waiting for a command. I can't think of anything I want or need, other than to hear that _this_ child is a male. I don't know if Narcissa's mind can handle another _o__bliviate_.

When the door to the mistress suite opens, the medi-witch exits, looking exhausted. "It was a difficult delivery, Lord Malfoy, but you have a beautiful daugh…"

My wand will be figuratively smoking with the number of memories I will have to modify tonight. I curse the memories of the birth from the witch and send her on her way. Narcissa reclines on the bed, cradling the infant in her arms, looking down at the small face with love and adoration. I almost can't bear to do it, but I remove the child and her entire pregnancy for her mind. A silent _d__ormio_ places my wife into a deep sleep and I carefully remove the child from her slack grasp.

The child already takes after the Black family: her head is covered in soft, dark brown curls reminiscent of her aunt Andromeda. The eyes are blue, but I can already see them having the same deep umber as Bella. Taking a deep breath, I hand the baby to Narcissa's elf Pippy. "Dispose of… _this_," I tell her, keeping my voice dry and unemotional.

_Double damn my father_.

Once the elf disappears from the room, I use well-practiced healing spells on my wife's sleeping form. Our marriage contract states we have five years to produce an heir or the marriage will be void. We've been trying for four. Although it was an arranged marriage, I _do_ love Narcissa and I don't want to find another pureblood bint after nothing more than the Malfoy vaults. Narcissa brought her own fortune into the marriage; she doesn't need my galleons.

I let my wife rest as the sleeping charm wears off. Tomorrow, I will do everything in my power to help her conceive again, quickly. I send an owl to Severus for more draughts of fertility potion. I don't want to lose my wife or my fortune.

**Pippy's POV**

Ooh… I can't believe Master is making me do this _again_. Three years ago, I buried the first newborn next to the wall in the Malfoy graveyard. Stillborn. The next day, Mistress acted like nothing had happened and I realized Master used his wand on her mind. I felt it was for the best then, to relieve my Mistress of the heartache.

Then a year and half ago, he handed me a _live_ baby girl, telling me to dispose of that one as well. I shook my head, trying to back away and not follow his order. I would have happily ironed my hands daily for a year if it meant not obeying that single command. Master's elf took the infant from his arms and told me to follow him. I closed my eyes and whimpered when he covered the baby's face with a pillow. When he was done, he handed the tiny body to me, telling me to bury it next to the last one.

I can't do it again. When Master's elf looks at me with frustration for not following orders, I steel myself and nod. I just can't bury a third baby, though. Once out of sight of Mistress' suite, I apparate to Master Sirius, Mistress' favorite cousin, despite his tolerance for non-purebloods. He jumps hearing the _pop_ of my appearance in his den.

"Pippy, what are you doing here… with _that_?" he asks incredulously, seeing the newborn in my arms.

I whimper and tell him _everything_, including the curses on my mistress' memory. He nods in understanding, but not without a look of disgust at Master's actions. He paces in thought for the longest time, before sitting at his desk. "Let me send some owls. I might be able to think of something."

I wander the halls as he writes, bouncing and rocking the baby girl. Her tiny body is so warm and she's very calm. He eventually calls me back into the den as he reads over a letter. "There's a squib and her Muggle husband. She's distantly related to me. They have been trying to have a child and are not able. My source tells me they would not be adverse to taking in the infant. As a squib, the mother would be able to spot the signs of magic and explain it to her spouse when they happen. With Black and Malfoy genes, this little girl is going to be a force to reckon with when she comes of age."

I nod, so grateful I will not have to bury another baby. He tells me about this family and where I can find them. Master Sirius gives me a mild potion to keep the baby from being hungry and a thicker blanket. I wrap the little girl securely and apparate to the address in Kent.

I kiss the soft brown curls before I rest her on the doorstep of the large house. Apparently the squib and her Muggle husband do well for themselves. This comforts me; the child won't be deprived. I send a prayer to whatever gods may be out there that two hundred and fifty kilometers will keep the little mistress safe from Master.

**Lucius POV (June 1980)**

No. This can't be happening. The medi-witch told us that the baby wouldn't be born until the beginning of July. It's only the beginning of June and Narcissa is in labor. It's too soon.

I follow the path in the halls that has become worn from my pacing during these times, with Druther following in wait. Pippy sits outside Narcissa's suite, curled in a ball, whimpering softly. She is dreading the same things as me. After several hours, the worn medi-witch exits the room with a smile. "Congratulations, Lord Malfoy. The baby is small, but otherwise healthy, considering how early he came. Lady Malfoy is tired, but waiting to introduce you to your son."

A son. A healthy son. A healthy wife. I start to rush to Narcissa's side, but the medi-witch places a hand on my arm to stall me. "Forgive me, Lord, but you should know…" Her face looks uneasy. "The birth was hard on her body. It's unlikely that she will be able to carry any other children to term. I've told her and she's quite fine with having just the one. I didn't want you to be disappointed or…" she trails off indecisively.

I have the child required to validate my marriage and the son I need to keep my inheritance. My bride is alive and well. Life is good. I nod to the witch and continue to Narcissa's bed, where she coos at the blue-swaddled bundle.

"Look at him, Lucius. He looks just like you already," she whispers, her blue eyes never leaving the newborn's face. White-blonde peach fuzz covers his head and eyes that blink open and closed sleepily already have hints of my own gray in the dark blue irises. She hands him to me and I cradle him in my arms, unable to take my eyes away from his already aristocratic face. "Draco. Draco Abraxas Malfoy," she names him.

A name from both of our families: the constellation from the Blacks and the name of my father. I hand the infant back to Narcissa and slide myself behind her in the bed so she can recline against me. "He will be the greatest wizard ever. With the Black and Malfoy genes, he will outshine every witch and wizard at Hogwarts. He will be a testament to the greatness of purebloods, exemplifying our superiority," I tell her, kissing her neck softly between words.

"Lucius, he's just a baby. We have years before he'll even show magic, much less perform it at will. Right now, I will settle for pampering him like the beautiful prince he is. But you are right, my love. He will certainly be superior to every other child. Ever."

**So there. Just a coupla things… Because the Blacks have that star thing, I decided to give the Malfoy line the tradition of names from Camelot and the legends of King Arthur. It comes in to play later. I'm currently writing the last chapter, so plan on fairly regular updates. More reviews equals faster updates. I'm eager to hear thoughts**


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: Here's the first full chapter. It's mainly to get the reader caught up to the present, highlighting some of the changes in the world since Voldemort doesn't exist. Kisses to my amazing prereader kjwrit (if you're into SVM/True Blood, READ HER STUFF if you haven't) and a shrine should be built to RealJena for betaing this sucker so my tenses make sense and I don't sound like an idiot. Enjoy.**

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><p>"God, Draco…" she whimpers. "We can't do this here. Someone will see."<p>

"I don't care," I say, heating her neck with my breath. With my arms wrapped tightly around her in the dark and dusty corner of the library, she can't get away. Not that she really wants to. "You know _I_ don't care if anyone knows."

She arches her back into my chest when I nip at the back of her neck and turns her head to kiss me over her shoulder. "I don't want to fight about this again, Drake. You know there are some very good reasons for keeping this quiet."

Lucius. Potter. The Weasels. The entirety of Slytherin House. Yes, all very good reasons why no one can find out about the goddess in my arms.

I saw her getting on the train at King's Cross with the other first years and something about her drew my closer attention. Her curly hair reminded me of Aunt Andi and something about the shape of her eyes and angle of her cheekbones made me think of my mother. I actually looked up at her in wonder, but neither she nor my father seem to pay any attention to the otherwise plain-looking girl.

Father reminded me of my duties as a Malfoy before I got on the train. Perfection was an expectation. Superiority was a must. Slytherin was a given. Not a single Black _or_ Malfoy has been in any house except Slytherin (except Sirius and Dora, but Father ignored their existence) since Hogwarts was founded.

I met up with Theo, Greg, and Vincent in a car filled with other kids I've known since birth. Pansy, Daphne, and Millicent huddled in the corner of the compartment, giggling and talking about their summers. I rolled my eyes at them and started talking to the guys. Theo introduced me to Blaise Zabini, someone he'd known for a while, but I hadn't ever met. He was a pureblood, so he must be okay. The three of us talked about the classes we were going to be taking while Greg and Vin just kind of… sat and vacantly took up space. Their family tree didn't have enough branches to gift them with anything other than size.

The girl who reminded me of Mother and Aunt Andi peeped her head in to ask if anyone had seen a missing toad. The girls sneered at her Muggle clothes and shooed her away. Now that she was closer, I could see her eyes were a dark shade of brown like Aunt Bella's, only not all wide and crazy. Our eyes locked before she left and there's something about her… something I'd never felt before. I shook off the odd feeling and returned to my friends.

I. _Hated_. Her. The first reason was she was a Gryffindor and they're all bleeding heart, emotional do-gooders. The second reason was she was Muggle-born. I didn't know exactly _why_ that was such a bad thing, but to hear Father talk, Muggles were the reason the Wizarding world had to be hidden instead of taking its rightful place, with wizards ruling. The third reason was she was making it impossible to fulfill my duties as a Malfoy.

I was sorted into Slytherin before the Sorting Hat was fully on my head. The Malfoy genes are that strong. The girl that looked like my aunts took for-bleeding-ever. You could see the confusion on her face as the hat searched her mind.

I went into my classes confident, sure that I would rise to the top easily. I'd had magical tutors from the first time I did accidental magic when I was four years old. I was horrified shortly into the term to realize I was coming in _second_ to a Mudblood with no reason to beat me in anything magical. But every single lesson, whether it was Transfiguration, Charms, or even bleeding Herbology, she managed to outscore me in _everything_.

Only in Potions was I able to occasionally beat her, and I'm sure that was due to Snape's favoritism towards Slytherins. But even he realized that for me to get the _best_ scores in partnered projects, I had to be partnered with the Granger girl. The fact that I was coming in second ate at me like nothing I'd ever experienced. I was used to getting whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and she was my roadblock.

Her friends did nothing to endear her to me. The half-blood Potter and blood-traitor Weasley were obnoxious and blatant about their rule-breaking. Having her logic working for them during their misdeeds kept them from being found out. Having her perfectionism assisting them in their homework and assignments also had them earning higher grades than they really deserved. It was irritating.

I'd met Potter several times growing up; since my cousin was his godfather, it was inevitable that a visit or two would overlap. Outside of school, the raven-haired boy was no different and Sirius only seemed to encourage his rule-breaking. It didn't help that most of his pranks were aimed at me or other members of my house. From day one, he seemed to have a grudge against Snape and any other Slytherin… no doubt fostered by his godfather and look-alike father.

Year after year, the Granger girl would get to me. If it wasn't for her, I would have perfection covered. Her bloody smart, damn analytical mind kept me from being the best in our year and I couldn't figure out how a damn Muggle-born could have such powerful magic. It frustrated not only me, but Theo, Blaise, Daphne… and Father.

Fourth year was the turning point. When she entered the Yule Ball on the arm of Viktor Krum, Quiddich Star and Tri-Wizard champion, I didn't recognize her at first. Her normally frizzy curls flowed down her back in sleek waves, emphasizing her facial features like never before. I thought she was pretty-ish before, but never paid attention because of how annoyingly _perfect_ she was. That night… she was beautiful. Strangely, Mother flashed through my mind again, but I shook it off and stood by Pansy, never taking my eyes off Granger.

Fifth and sixth years, we were prefects for our respective houses and had to spend more time together. Annoyingly, I came in second to her _again_ during our O.W.L.S. Father loved to bring that up, over and over before sixth year. I would spend weekends and sometimes whole weeks at Theo's manor or Blaise's villa in Italy during the summer to get away from Father's irrational disappointment. So I was second, and only by mere fractions of a point… it wasn't _my_ fault that the professors adored her.

The summer before seventh year was different. Mother stood up to Father and openly stated that we (she and I) would be attending Sirius' wedding, no matter his objections. All our previous visits had been in secret because of Father's disapproval. Sirius' wedding to Anita Macmillan was supposed to be _THE_ event to be invited to and Mother loved to make an appearance. Never able to deny Mother anything she truly wanted, Father finally capitulated and allowed us to attend.

Of course she was there. _Of course_ she had one or both of the moronic duo at her side. Of course she looked amazing. Her lilac dress robes were fitted and accentuated her petite, slim figure. When she danced with the bride's nephew, our classmate Ernie, she showed how graceful she was and how light she seemed when not carrying a bag filled with books. I couldn't do anything more than stare at her and try to ignore Mother's knowing grins.

To _no one's_ surprise, she and I were chosen as Head Girl and Boy for our seventh year. Dumbledore led us to our shared dormitory after dinner. At the entrance was a portrait of a snake and a lioness, glaring at each other from opposite sides of the frame. Well, that didn't seem like a good omen. The headmaster told us to agree on a password to gain admission to the room.

Since Slytherin passwords to the dungeon always had something to do with blood-status, those didn't seem appropriate with a Muggle-born. She said Gryffindor usually used random magical items or nonsense words that the Fat Lady liked the sound of. We loitered outside of the painting for the longest time trying to find an appropriate password that neither of us would object to. For no reason, she started laughing. I asked her what was so funny.

"Peskipiksi Pesternomi," she said, breathless from her giggles.

I frowned. "I'm not familiar with that spell," I admitted, hating that she _still_ knew more than me.

She swatted my shoulder lightly, making my frown deepen. "Because it isn't a real one, Malfoy. Remember that big faker during our second year?" she asked.

I bit the inside of my lip to keep from joining her laughter. Lockhart had to be the most useless wizard ever hired by the school. A made-up spell from our second year made a perfect password. We agreed and the glaring lion and snake rolled their eyes before swinging open.

The décor matched our houses, deep crimson and emerald green with gold and silver accents. It actually worked without looking like it was permanently Christmas. Our huge common room took up the entirety of the first level, with our rooms and joined bathroom on the lofted second level. We investigated our individual rooms and met in the bathroom. I leaned against the counter and faced her.

"Look, Granger," I said to her, meeting her dark eyes, "this year is going to be miserable if we fight the way we have been for the past six years. I'm willing to make a truce, even if just within these walls, to make this year easier. We have head business and N.E.W.T.S. this year and trying to fight with you would just be too much. Can we agree on that?" I asked hopefully.

She smiled and it literally took my breath away. It was the first time she actually _smiled_ at me without it morphing to a smirk. "Sure, Malfoy. I agree." She took my offered hand and shook her head. "With all the agreeing we're doing, people might think we're actually _friends_."

The first part of the year tested our tentative truce. When Potter and Weasley were around, she reverted back to her swotty, know-it-all self. To be fair, around Theo, Blaise, Vin, and Greg, I turned back into the spoiled arrogant prince that she had no problem despising. But in our private common room, we were just… ourselves. We took the same advanced level classes and had a healthy competition between each other for grades, even though we would work together on assignments.

During that time together, we learned more about each other. She hated that Potter and Weasley used her for her smarts when they could just pay attention and do their work like everyone else. I told her about being wary of the dark arts that Father dabbled into from time to time. She told me about her desire to go into healing, feeling it would please her dentist parents. I admitted that I had no idea what I wanted to do, but that nothing was expected of me beyond marrying and producing a pureblood male heir. She confessed that she didn't work as hard as everyone thought; that she just kept up appearances because even she felt it strange that a Muggle-born would inherently know so much magic without having studied. I revealed that I resented all the expectations my father had for me, simply because he wanted me to follow in his footsteps in every way, including an arranged marriage after graduation.

Talking to _Hermione _was so easy. We were courteous and agreed to keep our dormitory to ourselves: no guests. We had our house common rooms if we wanted to visit our friends. We became more comfortable with each other and with such close quarters, it was inevitable to see one another in awkward positions. I _knew_ she'd heard me in the shower, more than once, relieving the morning wood I'd wake up with every bloody morning. I'd heard soft panting and moaning from her room, again, more than once.

Before we left for our respective homes for the Christmas holiday, I wanted to give her something to think about while she was gone. Our bags sat by the door and I watched her check herself, making sure she hadn't left anything behind that she would need. She kissed my cheek and walked through the portrait, intending to meet Potter and the Weasels to ride to the train station together. Fine. That just gave me more time to gather my courage. She would eventually meet me in the Heads' Compartment on the trip to King's Cross.

When she did, bringing both of us hot chocolate from the trolley, I couldn't help but smile at her. When the announcement went out that we were ten minutes from London, she stood to go back to her friends. I stopped her.

"Hermione, I'd like to think we're… friends now, right?" I asked tentatively. No other girl had ever made me feel so… unsure.

"Of course, Draco," she'd assured me with that breathtaking smile I still hadn't gotten used to.

"Can you think about something over the break for me?" I asked, still trying to get the confidence to do what I'd wanted to do since the summer.

She put her hand on my shoulder and met my eyes. "Just ask, Drake. You're starting to freak me out a little," she said with a slightly nervous giggle.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers. After a surprised gasp, she melted into me, responding. She slid her other hand up my arm and wrapped behind my neck. I pulled her to me and felt how perfectly her body matched mine, like puzzle pieces joining for the first time. Slender fingers nested in my hair and her tongue traced over my bottom lip; I mimicked her and my eyes rolled when I tasted her for the first time. Honey and chocolate and something exotic that I'd never encountered before only tempted me more. I indulged a bit longer before pulling back. "I want more, Granger," I growled, grateful my robes would hide the erection she'd caused.

"More, Malfoy?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes glazed and lips swollen.

I nodded. "More. You know we could be amazing together. Don't say anything right now," I stopped her when her mouth opened to interrupt. "Just… think about it over the holiday. We can talk when we come back after the break."

She nodded, still looking stunned and I couldn't resist one final kiss before letting her return to her friends. I saw her leave the train in her Muggle clothes and greet parents that looked nothing like her. Mother greeted me with a hug and followed my eyes.

"Who is that girl? I feel like I'm seeing Andi when she was a seventh year," she mused to me, confusion in her eyes.

"Hermione Granger. She's Head Girl this year."

"_THAT_ is the Muggle-born that has been besting you for the past six and a half years?" she asked in amazement, still staring after her.

"Yes… but we're trading back and forth this year." I watched her leave and once she was gone from sight, I turned my attention back to Mother. "Let's go home. I'm sure Father is anxious to tell me everything I'm failing at this year," I muttered sourly.

The holiday went as expected: thoughtful gifts from Mother and gratuitous gifts from Father that meant little beyond what they cost. Obligatory visiting with various family members and friends. Completing assignments due upon my return to school. I hadn't realized how much I liked working with Hermione until she wasn't there.

Pippy apparated me to the train platform when the break was over, as Mother was under the weather and Father couldn't be bothered. I saw Hermione and smiled. "Who is that, Master Draco?" Pippy asked me in her high pitched voice.

"Hermione Granger, the Head Girl," I told her and watched her large eyes widen.

"Is she a good girl, Master Draco?" she asked and I looked at her confused as to why she would question that.

"She's smart and talented. If I didn't know, I would never guess she's Muggle-born," I told the elf and watched her eyes water.

"She looks so much like Mistress Andromeda…" Pippy said quietly and I chuckled at how often that comparison had come up.

"Give Mother my love, Pippy. I have to board," I said when the whistle blew. She nodded and with a snap, apparated back to the Manor.

I was sure Hermione was with her friends, so I spent a little time catching up with mine. Everyone was anxious to show off their gifts and I did the same, playing the part of the spoiled Slytherin prince I was known as. After ninety minutes of mindless chatter and gossip, I excused myself to the head compartment.

I'd only been there for about ten minutes before the door slid open roughly, causing my head to snap up from the book I was killing time with. Hermione was flushed and slammed the door shut behind her, locking it and closing the blinds. "Were you serious?" she asked breathlessly.

It took me a few minutes to realize what she was talking about. When I remembered, I took her hand and forced her to unclench her fingers. "Completely. I want more with you than simple friendship, Hermione. From the way you kissed me back, I would assume you're not entirely opposed to the idea."

She shook her head. "I'm not. But Harry, Ron, and Ginny… they would _never_ understand. I even tried over the holiday to broach the idea of killing this silly rivalry they have with you and they wouldn't speak to me for the rest of the day. If we were to try… _this_… we'd have to keep it quiet until they could get used to the idea and realize that you aren't the heartless bastard they think you are… and that you play so well," she said with a wry smile.

Happy with her agreement, I agreed to her request for discretion. Just like before, we played our individual parts when around others, but spent more time in our private dormitory where we were just Mya and Drake. There wasn't a lot of time between meetings with the prefects and doing our work, so any time we could be alone and unoccupied was time I cherished, because it was time I could spend kissing and touching her to my heart's content.

But it wasn't nearly time enough, so I starting ambushing her when I knew she'd be alone. Broom cupboards and empty classrooms were both fun, and I could pull her from the hall with little notice. But my absolute favorite was the library with its dark corners and rarely used sections. We could make out for hours and no one would ever find us.

"Drake, come on," she pants through giggles. "I promise I'll make it up to you tonight after we finish our homework. I just don't want to get caught."

I give her a quick, hard kiss before releasing her from my arms. "You win," I concede. "But this consolation prize better be worth it," I say with a smirk.

She stands on her tiptoes and nips at my lip. "Believe me, my pureblood prince… it'll have your head spinning." She presses a chaste kiss to my neck and walks off without looking back. I watch her walk until she's gone and shake my head when I realize it. What I feel for this girl still blows my mind.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm not trying to be sneaky and clever with foreshadowing. I'm sure most of you have a clue. I want to say that... hmm... nothing's going to get "squicky" or graphic. There is an actual story here, despite the fact that a lot of my previous stories (SVM) were excuses for smut. This isn't. There's a little bit of everything here: romance, angst, humor, teenage rebellion, soul searching... just let me know what you think of my first full-fledged HP story.<strong>


	3. Chapter 2

**AN: There's a little citrus in this chapter, but there's a point to it (mostly). Mainly, this highlights the more recent relationship between Draco and his father. kjwrit is the coolest prereader a gal could ask for and RealJena is a genius and finding my typos. Enjoy.**

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><p>My father's eagle owl, Gareth, was pacing the windowsill when Hermione and I return to our shared dormitory after dinner. That is never good. It means that a reply is expected. I groan in my head and give Mya a quick kiss. "Let me see what he wants and we can get started on that paper for Ancient Runes," I tell her.<p>

"That sounds good. The sooner we're done, the quicker I can give you your reward," she replies with a cheeky smirk before heading up the stairs to her room.

I sit at our common room table and the owl hops over and glares at me with his amber eyes. I untie the scroll from his leg and lean back in the chair to read.

_Dear Draco,_

_It disturbs me to hear from your mother that, yet again, you are coming in second to a mudblood. While I am proud of your achievement in becoming Head Boy (as I was and your grandfather before me), second place is simply unacceptable. I have been remiss in not getting information on this girl before now. I know her name is Hermione Granger, but nothing else is readily available to me, despite my investigations._

_I need you to help me in my search for information. Her parents' names, her birth place, her date of birth. Something about this girl consistently besting you vexes me and I intended to find answers to my questions. Gareth will wait for a response._

_Sanguis Vincet Semper,_

_Father_

I roll my eyes at his pretentious way of closing a letter with our family motto… _Blood always overcomes_ my arse. I draw out my quill when the damn owl nips at my hand with his sharp beak and pull out a fresh sheet of parchment.

_Father,_

_I don't understand the need to investigate the Head Girl, but far be it for me to argue or try to understand your thought process. What I've been able to gather over the past almost seven years is as follows:_

_-Hermione Jane Granger, born September 19, 1979_

_-Gryffindor House_

_-Parents Michael and Rebecca Granger from Kent, dentists (tooth healers)_

_That is the extent of my personal knowledge of the girl. Merlin knows I would never deign to spend time with her that isn't necessary for our Head duties. If you need further information, perhaps you should contact the Potter or Weasley families. They would know more than I would._

_Scientia Quam Purus,_

_Draco_

Mya returns to the common room, out of her robes and dressed in the Muggle casual clothes that I love seeing her in: tiny cotton shorts that hug her bum and a tank top that would definitely be inappropriate in public. She grabs the letter from my father off the table, deftly avoiding Gareth's talons, and reads silently. "He's really overreacting about the Muggle-born thing, isn't he? What could he possibly gain from investigating me?"

I shrug and roll my eyes. "You never know with Lucius. He can't stand that I'm not perfect and you're the reason." I grin and give her a quick kiss when she sits next to me. "I hated you for so long for that reason alone."

"Well, isn't it a good thing that now my perfectionism is a thing you adore?" Without waiting for an answer, she scans over my response. "Are you trying to give him a heart attack?"

"He needs a heart for that. Why?"

She taps my closing. "'Knowledge over purity'? He's going to keel over when he reads that and will spend his afterlife as a ghost haunting the manor to scare the wits out of any half-blood or mudblood daring to mar the halls with their presence!"

"Well, as close to the truth as that may be, it's what I've come to think. Look at Crabbe and Goyle. They're pureblood too and they can barely walk and talk at the same time. Blood purity does not make a powerful witch or wizard. Hell, even Snape is only a half-blood and he's one of the best potion masters in the northern hemisphere."

"Okay. Why don't you get that sent and if you're ready, will you deign to work with me on this paper?" she asks with that grin that makes all kind of wicked thoughts flood my brain.

I roll up the parchment and tie it to Gareth's leg and he takes off without hesitation. I pull out my own books for the runic translations we were assigned and we start our work silently, occasionally pausing to work out tricky conversions that we aren't familiar with. After an hour and a half, I push my parchment away. "My brain is gruel now. I'm done for tonight."

She giggles sleepily and packs away her own papers. "Me too. We're almost done anyway. It's time for your reward from earlier, Mister Malfoy." Stretching as she stands, she takes my hand and leads me to her room.

Once the door closes, she's wrapped around me, kissing my mouth, licking my neck, nipping my ear, making my eyes roll back. I capture her lips again and slide my hands down her spine until I'm cupping her arse. When I lift her up, her slender legs wrap around my waist instinctively. I carry her to her red satin covered bed and sit with her straddling my lap.

"Drake… I'm not ready for everything tonight, but I thought… maybe… we could do… other things?" she says haltingly.

I know she's a virgin and I've only been with one girl. The rumors of my "prowess" are just that – gossip and exaggeration. She knows this as well. We've snogged and made-out, with a few over-the-clothes touches, but haven't gone further than that. I trust her to tell me when she's ready for more… and it seems she is.

I nod, wanting more than anything to see what she's comfortable with. Shyly, her face a brilliant pink, she pulls the little tank top from her body and drops it to the floor and waits, letting my eyes take in her topless form for the first time.

Her breasts are small, but fit her petite frame. Dark rose colored nipples harden before my eyes and make my mouth water. She takes one of my hands from her arse and slides it up her body until it cups the soft mound, making her shiver. "Touch me, Draco."

I kiss her softly and let my other hand cover the other side. She moans softly into my mouth, encouraging me to go further. I let my fingers tease and trace over her buds, making them harder. Her breathing speeds up and I feel the goosebumps erupt over her peaches-and-cream skin. My mouth leaves her lips to travel over her jaw and down her neck until I'm hovering over my hands. She gives me a silent nod and I close my lips around on tight nipple. Her head falls back with a whimpered, "Oohhh…"

Her skin tastes just as good as her mouth – like honey and vanilla and some exotic spice that hasn't been discovered yet. I can't get enough. I suckle gently and let my tongue soothe the skin that puckers under light scrapes of my teeth. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I twist and turn, laying her on her back. I lay half on top of her, half beside her, supporting my weight on my forearms.

I can't stop touching her, feeling her body respond to mine. Her fingers maneuver between our bodies and start working on the buttons of my shirt. Once open, she slides her hands up my torso, over my shoulders, and down my arms, pulling the garment off. I give her total access to my body, letting her touch me however she wants – I'm hers.

We're both panting when she pulls back. I know she can feel my erection pressing into her thigh through my trousers when she shifts. "Uh… Drake… I think we need to stop. You have a way of making me lose control and I don't want things between us... I don't want it to happen just because we were carried away and didn't know when to say when."

I lift myself off her body and grit my teeth. I'm so hard it hurts. But… "You're right, Mya. But you make me lose control too. I'll go take care of… this," I roll my eyes down to my crotch and she flushes a brighter pink, "before bed. Sweet dreams, Hermione."

"Good night, Draco."

I enter the bathroom from her room and start the shower, shedding my clothes as soon as the door closes behind me. The warm water relaxes my muscles, but one needs special attention. I wrap my hand around my cock and close my eyes, thinking about how soft and warm my Mya's body is, how her taste intoxicates me, and imagining how the rest of her would taste and feel. Just the mental image of her coming undone under me has be groaning and spilling my seed against the wall of the stall. The pressure relieved, I finish bathing and turn off the water. While I wrap a warm towel around my hips, I hear more panting and moaning from the door to my right.

At least I'm not the only one left hot, bothered, and wanting tonight.

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><p><strong>AN:If I can get this to 25 reviews, I'll update again today. I missed out yesterday cuz I felt like poo. Really want to hear thoughtsreactions/constructive criticism.**


	4. Chapter 3

**AN: This chapter was so much fun to write. Lucius, as dastardly and twisty as he is, is such a joy to play with. Hope you enjoy! JKR is the goddess that owns all of them.**

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><p><strong>Lucius POV<strong>

My research and digging take just over a month. I look at the papers before me and try to regain order in my mind. Adopted. The bane of my son's existence was adopted. Her "mother", Rebecca Hitchens Granger, is a fourth generation squib married to a Muggle. Is it possible the little chit is ignorant of her status? What is her true ancestry? And why does her birthdate twitch in my mind as something significant?

Fortunately I know a skilled wizard with both the means of collecting a blood sample and of concocting a potion to verify her lineage. Checking the time, I toss some powder into the fireplace of my private study and call my destination.

Accepting my call, Severus' private quarters appear before my eyes. "What do you desire from me _now_, Lucius," his dark voice drawls. I can hear his sneer, even from his unseen position in the shadows.

"Careful Severus… one might think you were unhappy to hear from an old friend," I reply condescendingly.

He steps into the weak light with narrowed eyes. "Of course not, Lucius. Why would I not find pleasure in your company? It isn't as though you have used me for the past eighteen years. Fertility potions for your wife, health and strengthening elixirs for your premature son, being 'requested' to show favoritism toward that same son, despite another student being more proficient at the subject… pray tell, Lucius, how further can I help you?"

"Are you looking for some sort of reciprocity, Severus? You need only ask and if it is in my ability to provide, it's yours. I owe you too much," I tell him honestly… humbly. It's not a tone I use often, especially with half-bloods, but Severus is an exception to the rule. I know too well that he has gone above and beyond any duty to my family that he may feel.

"I want for nothing that _you_ can provide, Lucius. Shall we skip the small talk and get to what you need from me now?" he grumbles resignedly.

As I tell him of my discoveries and needs, he sits back in a leather wingback chair facing the fireplace. When I conclude my monologue, he leans forward, gazing at me with hard black eyes. "Why should I do this, Lucius? What possible concern is it of yours if the Head Girl is adopted? How does it impact _you_ if she's more than a Muggle-born? Give me a reason why I should do what you're asking of me."

I don't like having demands being placed upon me, however Severus is in the unique position to be able to do so. "I am becoming disturbed by Draco's relationship with her. He claims there is nothing between them, but the tone of his letters seems… unlike him, especially in reference to the Granger girl. Let me tell you how he closed his last letter to me!" When I describe the blasphemous response to our family motto, I swear that his onyx eyes sparkle with humor. I keep my sigh silent and continue as to why I need to know more about the girl.

At the end of my righteous diatribe against the mingling of blood and how it can weaken the strongest stock in our society, Severus reclines in his chair with a bitter smirk. "I see. So I am deficient because my father was a Muggle? Crabbe, Goyle, and Longbottom are more valuable to society because their bloodlines are pure? By your thought process, a blatant and unrepentant dunderhead like Ronald Weasley will contribute more to the wizarding world than Hermione Granger. It's never made sense to me, this unmitigated prejudice of yours.

"However, I can respect and understand your concern for Draco. Brilliant as Miss Granger is, she is still a quintessential Gryffindor with atrocious taste in companions and tends to be a shameless know-it-all. I will do as you request, but more to resolve my own curiosity than to help support your bigotry." He drums his fingers on the arm of his chair for several silent minutes before muttering to himself. "If I modify the _Retego Tectus_ potion… add dianthus petals and a sassafras leaf… replace chicory with lotus blossom… substitute a dragon scale for the unicorn hair…" He looks up at me, "It's unheard of and untested, but it _may_ provide the answers you seek. If I start brewing tonight, it should be ready by the new moon."

Three weeks. I can be patient for three weeks. "Severus, if this is successful…"

He cuts me off, his ebony eyes glittering dangerously. "Lucius, the Retego Tectus is only borderline legal. It can be more reliable than veritaserum as it can reveal secrets in the blood. The modifications I'm making will reveal ancestry only. Imagine otherwise… with a drop of Draco's blood, I _could_ discover your most nefarious deeds that he's not even aware of… simply because he shares your blood. But the subjective guesswork would hardly make it worth the trouble.

"The revelations shown through the potion are typically symbolic and open to interpretation. One might see the badger as the symbol of a Hufflepuff, yes? But it can also symbolize cunning and revenge… rather Slytherin qualities, wouldn't you say?"

My brow furrows as I consider his words. It sounds frustratingly abstract and who knows what conclusions will have to be assumed by the revelations of Miss Granger's blood. But this curiosity has gripped me like nothing else I can remember and I have to know who and what she is. I thank Severus for his assistance and withdraw from the floo, stretching my back from being crouched for so long.

The untouched glass of amber firewhiskey sparkles in the low light from the fireplace as I slowly ring my finger around the rim, meditating to the low, melodic tone it produces. Severus had many valid points that I can accept… privately. No matter how much I try to accept that mindsets have changed over the years, the thought of my only son cavorting with someone of lesser stock still sickens me.

A memory of my own time as Head Boy comes to me out of nowhere. Each room is equipped with a floo for call, not travel. I miss my son and want, more than anything, to ensure he stays on course for leading his life in the manner of a wealthy pureblood, as is his due.

I grab another handful of the glittery green power and toss it into the fire, turning the orange flames emerald. Ignoring the undignified position required, I place my head into the blaze and call out "Head Boy's Dormitory, Hogwarts".

The black I encounter seems deeper than it was in Severus' chamber as the room is lit only by a single candle. It takes my eyes several moments to see into to the dark, but my hearing doesn't suffer the same weakness.

"Merlin… Mya, why did we wait so long for this?" My son's panting voice says from the gloom.

"Oh, Drake…" a female voice breathlessly giggles, "I've told you before… patience is rewarded. The longer the wait…"

My vision starts adjusting when Draco growls, "The more valued the prize."

Two pale bodies twist on the bed before me, both glistening in the weak candlelight, neither noticing the flickering green head floating in the fireplace. One body, the larger of the two, is long and lean, with a strong back and muscular legs. The smaller form is delicate looking against my son's athletic frame, with graceful curves that do nothing but emphasize her femininity. I can see her appeal, loathe as I am to admit it.

The girl straddles Draco's legs and with ease, she sinks down, both moan at the sensation. It's clearly not the first time for either of them. I withdraw from the flames, not wanting to alert either to my inadvertent voyeurism. I slam back the warm firewhiskey and refill the glass to sip on as I think.

No pureblood family that I can think would dare put a child up for adoption. Bluntly, a child is a form of currency that can be traded for connections, power, and the fortunes that come with an alliance of marriage. Even poor families like the Weasleys can appreciate that; why else would they have so many brats running around? If anything, the Granger girl can't be more than half-blood, I'm sure. Nothing else would make sense.

It makes my son's… _relationship_ with the girl even more problematic. While I can understand his want to rebel combined with the fact that his pureblood counterparts are expected to be virgins until they are wed, cavorting with someone so much… _less_ than him turns my stomach. I only hope he's taking precautions against impregnating the girl. Merlin only knows what kind of abomination would come of their union.

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><p><strong>AN: It's never made sense to me in the fanfic world when a pureblood bigot like Lucius would name a halfblood like Severus as godfather to Draco. Just my opinion. "Hitchens" is directly from the Black Family Tree on the Harry Potter Lexicon (which was a godsend while writing this since all my books are in storage). <em>Retego Tectus<em> is Latin for "uncover the hidden" and is one of the few things besides the plot that I own. I look forward to hearing more thoughts!**


	5. Chapter 4

**AN: This was another fun chapter to write. Severus is so dry and condescending, but I think that he's so comfortable in his little potions-based world that he would have no BIG problem seeking out assistance when he knows it's needed. I'm getting a little disheartened by the lack of response. Anyway, huge thanks to kjwrit and RealJena for their prereading/beta skills. Enjoy the next chapter.**

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><p><strong>Snape POV<strong>

Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy sit facing each other on opposite sides of the ingredients stock I've placed at the various work stations. The scowls on their faces do little to mask the affection in their eyes when they look at each other. Perhaps, for once, Lucius isn't jumping to conclusions.

Glancing around the room, I see the other pairings: Patil with Abbott, MacMillan and Greengrass, Nott with Zabini and finally, I roll my eyes at Potter and Weasley. Knowing how calamities tend to happen when the two Gryffindors work together, I snap, "Weasley, Zabini – switch. No same-house pairs. According to our headmaster, we are to focus on _inter-house cooperation_." The redhead and dark skinned boy stare at me as though I've gone mad. "If those instructions are too complex," I drawl, "perhaps I should reconsider your ability to keep up with the requirements of this class." Both continue to stare. "MOVE!" I command and only turn my back to them once they start to gather their things and rise from their seats.

I flick my wand at the board, where a list of ingredients and diagrams appear. "As N.E.W.T.S. potions students, this should not be difficult. Identify the substance in front of you and prepare it according to the instructions on the board. Begin."

Granger and Malfoy immediately identify the patches of dragon skin I placed at their workstation before class. They both gaze at the board silently, absorbing the complicated instructions, before setting to work. Removing the scales from the skin undamaged and intact is a delicate process that I would normally not trust to a mere student. However, Malfoy and Granger work together with the grace of partners that have known each other for decades.

Nott and Weasley, sitting at the station to Granger's right, do not have that same kind of instinctual knowledge. "Weasley, what the hell are you doing? We're supposed to slice the leaves into equal segments, not massacre the things into bloody mulch!" Nott hisses to his partner. Flicking my eyes up, I see the red-haired menace brandishing his silver knife wildly, slashing the sassafras leaves into useless pieces.

"Miss Granger, please instruct your housemate on the proper way to prepare the leaves in front of him as he seems incapable of listening to his partner," I say just loudly enough for her to hear. With an eye roll to her smirking partner and a heavy sigh, she shifts her body and her attention to her right.

I see it happen when she reaches out to stay Weasley's swinging hand. The silver blade slices deeply and cleanly into the delicate skin of her forearm, spilling her blood alarmingly fast over the smooth granite countertop.

Her cry of pain is weak as she presses her left hand over the wound to staunch the blood flow. It's almost inaudible over the buffoon who injured her. "Blimey, 'Mione! Don't sneak up on a bloke like that! Bloody hell, are you okay?" he exclaims, watching Granger turn whiter and waver on her feet.

I quickly conjure a vial to siphon the spilled blood into while the chaos creates a distraction. Vanishing the glass tube into my robe, I return my attention to Weasley, who is aiming his wand at the gash in his friend's arm. "Mr. Weasley, if you wish to kill the girl, simply _Avada_ her and be done. It's cleaner. Otherwise, put your wand away. Mr. Malfoy, leave the Longhorn skin soaking in the bundimun and escort Miss Granger to the hospital wing. Return once Madame Pomfrey takes over."

The blond, looking as serious as his father does most of the time, doesn't hesitate to scoop up the shaky, pale brunette into his arms before she collapses. Once they leave, I return my attention, again, to Weasley. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for reckless behavior and detention with Mister Filch for the next three days. Put your knife away and pay attention as Mister Nott _properly_ prepares the leaves."

The ginger looks appropriately abashed as he stows his wand and potion-making kit in his satchel. His raven-haired friend on the other side of the room glares at his back, undoubtedly (and rightfully) blaming him for their other friend's current state.

When Malfoy returns, his manner is subdued. Silently and carefully, he immediately returns to work, removing the Romanian Longhorn skin from the caustic bath in which it has been marinating. Rinsing it with a gentle _aguamenti_, he tacks down the corners and removes small pincers from his kit. He gently grasps the iridescent, dark green scales and patiently eases them loose, removing them from the leather-like skin with the skill of a seasoned potions master.

After the class is dismissed, I look over the completed work. Potter and Zabini successfully dissected their lotus blossoms, though I think that achievement is more on Zabini than Potter. MacMillan and Greengrass separated the small, potent inner dianthus petals from the weak outer ones that are essentially useless. Lastly, Abbott and Patil managed to brew the precise strength of ginger tea needed for clarity and start the essence of rue required to bring out the hidden secrets kept in the blood.

With only minor brewing steps remaining, I no doubt will finish with the potion in less than the three weeks I told Lucius. I bought myself the extra time to decipher the outcome. I've even bargained with the centaur Firenze to help interpret the subjective, sometimes foggy results.

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><p>Two nights later, the essence of rue is completed. Before I combine the murky liquid with the Gryffindor's blood, I portion it off for future use, along with the potion's base for demonstrations and patenting, if possible. Measuring out only what I need for this particular draught, I count out five drops of blood before adding everything to the cauldron in front of me. Instantly, smoke of shifting colors begins to form shapes in the air. I grab my quill and a scrap of parchment to record everything as it appears. White roses wrap around a coal-colored alligator produced by the haze. A green and silver adder comes forth from the smoke next, also wrapped in the white roses, and it slithers to nuzzle the alligator affectionately. Ivy and orange blossoms tether the two reptiles together before the figures explode into red and gold embers that extinguish themselves in the air before the ash lands on the tabletop.<p>

How in the bloody hell and I supposed to decipher _that_?

While I'm not _completely_ versed in prophetic symbolism, I'm able to decode some of the images. White roses are almost always the hallmark of purity; with the animals sporting the distinctive bloom, I can assume both parents are purebloods.

I am utterly _un_surprised.

Orange blossoms and ivy are traditional allusions to weddings and marriage; I'm able to conclude that Granger's biological parents are (or were, at the time of her birth) married. As for the alligator and the adder… I will need assistance from the centaur for those.

I send my patronus into the Forbidden Forest, requesting Firenze meet me by the Black Lake – neutral ground. Once the silver figure disappears among the ancient trees, I wrap myself in a medium-weight cloak, appropriate for the early spring nights. I take my time making my way to the lake shore so as not to have to wait in the waning moonlight.

When I arrive, I see the half-breed's white-blonde hair and pale palomino body gleaming on the blanched sand. "Tell me what you saw, Severus," he says boldly, without hesitation.

I describe the vision in as much detail as possible. Firenze stares up at the stars and he listens, deep in thought. When I finish, his brilliant blue eyes lock on mine. "This child is very powerful. You are positive she is a Gryffindor?"

"Absolutely," I respond gravely. "I was present at her sorting. I can't remember the hat ever taking so long to place someone. Not even Nymphadora Tonks took as long to be placed into Hufflepuff like her father."

The creature's handsome face gives me an enlightened smile. "How interesting that the daughter of Andromeda _Black_ would have caused a similar situation. Regardless… back to your query. The adder is a classic masculine symbol. The Slytherin colors and the animal itself represent a man who is driven to meet his goals, no matter the price. He's smarter than most of his peers and has made cunning an art form. He wears many different masks, only showing those he's with the face that he wants them to see. Very few know all of his sides.

"The alligator though… she's trickier. She's not a traditional representation of motherhood, but it makes sense in the abstract. She is protective of her children, not hesitating to become violent if she feels it's necessary. She loves her husband, but he would stand no chance against her if he were to deceive her. She is proud, strong, devoted to her family, and loyal to those who earn her respect. I have no doubt that the child of two people with those qualities and strengths will undoubtedly be one of the most formidable, talented witches our world has seen since Morgana. And with that, I'll take my leave. I feel you have the necessary information now to reach your own conclusions." He bows his head respectfully and turns to trot back into the trees.

I start back toward the castle when a thought occurs and I turn. "What of the color of the alligator?" I call. Everything in the vision is supposed to have a meaning.

Firenze huffs a chuckle. "I thought that would be self-explanatory," he replies dryly and gallops to disappear in the forest.

Retiring to my chambers, I put together what I have learned. Pureblood… father is a quintessential Slytherin… a protective, indomitable mother… but what of the color black? Dark magic… opposite of light… how to interpret a black mother? Black. Mother. Black…

"No!" I gasp to my empty room, not wanting to comprehend the implications.

I sweep into my stores and grab a vial I haven't looked at for years, the sanguine fluid in the tube dried to crust and residue. Mixing the still-warm ingredients from earlier, I tap a few precious flakes of blood into the bubbling mixture. Shifting, multi-hued smoke rolls out of the cauldron forming the same reptilian beasts as before, adorned by the same blossoms. The green and silver of the snake seem to shimmer, despite being formed from smoke and the alligator seems almost solid, gleaming like obsidian.

The girl's father is Lucius. What the centaur told me describes that slippery man to perfection, but Draco's blood confirms it. Marriage to a black mother. Not black like raven or pitch, evil or immoral. Black as in The Noble and Most Ancient House of. Narcissa. How is it even possible?

Draco was four weeks premature, born at the beginning of June instead of early July. Conception would have been in the last ten days of September, if the healing and fertility potions took hold the way they always had after Narcissa's previous stillbirths. The Granger girl, the oldest in her year, turned eighteen on…

"September nineteenth…" I mumble to myself before collapsing into the nearest chair. Narcissa is precisely the kind of mother the centaur stated was defined by the alligator. How… _why_… did she allow her husband to give away her daughter? How many "stillbirths" had Narcissa actually had and why did she not seem to be aware? "Merlin, Lucius, you _unimaginable bastard_, what did you do?"

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><p><strong>AN: JSYK - A LOT of research went into the animalflower symbolism. I would love it if that time was rewarded by some reviews. Heaven knows it would give me some motivation to get my rear in gear and finish the last chapter.**


	6. Chapter 5

**AN: A brief interlude after Draco leaves Snape's classroom. Sorry for the short length, but I _could_ be convinced to update again this pm... just ask. Offerings to kjwrit and RealJena at the shrine to the left, because they are more awesome than I can say. Enjoy the chapter**

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><p><strong>Draco POV<strong>

"Don't do that to me again, Granger, you hear me?" I say softly to her sleeping form. The sassafras juice on the Weasley's knife was an anticoagulant, causing Hermione to lose blood at a frightening rate. By the time we reached the infirmary, she was paler than me and had lost consciousness between the dungeon and the third floor. Madame Pomfrey mended the gash quickly and was administering a blood replenishing potion when she shooed me back to class. Because of the loss of consciousness, my Mya was being kept overnight and _no one_, not even the somewhat scary medi-witch in charge of the hospital wing, was going to keep me from her bedside.

"What are _you_ doing here, Malfoy? Thinking about finishing off the _mudblood_ when she's not able to defend herself?" a deep voice (that I know and loathe) says from behind me.

"Why would I endanger myself like that, Potter?" I ask, turning slowly to face the self-righteous moron. "If I wanted her dead, all I would need to do is wait for her to help Weasley again."

"You know that was an accident. It's no worse than the almost-seven years of hexes, curses, and slurs that _you've_ attacked her with!"

"I've never drawn blood, you git! How many times has one of your 'harmless' pranks sent her here? And you two idiots call yourselves her friends?"

Potter's face pales, then turns bright red. "I've never made her cry. I've never made her feel like less than nothing simply because she's Muggleborn. I haven't made it my life's ambition to be better than her because I've accepted that – Muggleborn or not – it's _never_ going to happen. And by the way… you've never said why you're here."

My lip curls into the disdainful sneer I'm well-known for. "Not that it's any of your concern, Potter, but I have Head's business with My… Granger. It's urgent and I'm hoping she wakes up before curfew. I guarantee that my discussion with her trumps your paltry wishes for her to 'get well soon'."

Emerald eyes roll at me mockingly and he shoulders past my protective stance. "Ron's really sorry, 'Mione. He's more upset than I've ever seen!" He presses a kiss to her forehead and sweeps her hair back from her face. "Mum and Dad want you to stay with us for the spring hols; you know how pretty Brighton is when the parks are in bloom. Mum loved your idea for a potions garden and was hoping you'd help her expand it." Narrowed shamrock colored eyes flick toward me before returning to the sleeping girl. "I want you to feel better as soon as possible, 'Mione. You know we're lost without you." He kisses her again, this time on the cheek, and shoves past me again on his way out.

I wince and rub my shoulder where his bony joint knocked into mine as I retake my seat next to the bed. The curly head to my left turns and cracks an eye. "Is he gone?" she breathes, softer than a whisper.

I nod and lean in to give her a soft kiss. "Just left. What's he talking about, spending the spring holiday in Brighton with his parents?" I can't help the bubble of jealously clogging my chest.

"Lily wanted a summer house on the water and James can't ever really deny her anything. He bought her a beautiful townhouse with a brilliant view of the Channel. Last time I was there – over the summer – Lily and I planted an herb garden for potions while the boys played Quidditch. They have their hobbies and we have ours. It was nice," she sums up quietly.

"Father has said he will be spending the next several weeks travelling on business and Mother is taking my aunt to a 'spa' in Gloucestershire. Aunt Bella's not mad enough for St. Mungo's, but Mum thinks it's just a matter of time before she gets locked up there or Azkaban. She keeps going off on these rants about Muggleborns and half-bloods… in public… very loudly. Mum's hoping some of the holistic magic they practice there might calm Bella down. With the house empty, I was hoping I could convince you to spend the week in Wiltshire… with me."

Her dark chocolate eyes crinkle when she smiles. "I'd love to, Drake. Mum and Dad already know I spend the hols with my friends. I just won't mention to them that the destination has changed." She sits up weakly in the adjustable hospital bed and slides forward. Without prompting, I climb behind her and let her recline against me.

My arms wrap loosely around her abdomen; her warmth could melt even my father's cold heart if he would let himself get over her blood status. "We'll take the train to London as planned. Once we're alone, I can apparate us to The Manor." My arms tighten, holding her closer. "Don't dare make plans to go past my bedroom, witch. The elves will bring us our meals; all I need or want is some uninterrupted alone time with you."

"Tell me about your elves," she says with closed eyes and she snuggles closer to me.

"Druther is Father's elf and he'll probably travel with him as a valet. He may have once been normal, but he seems to have taken on his master's personality traits: proud, superior, and a bit dark at times. I try to avoid him if possible. Pippy belongs to Mother and dotes on her every need. She seems meek and submissive until someone messes with Mum. Aunt Bella's been hexed by elf magic more times than I can count when she's on one of her tirades about blood purity and how Mum should be blasted from the family tree for associating with blood traitors like Sirius and Aunt Andi. She's always a little humbled after taking a hit from Pippy." I smile at the memory of the last one: every time Aunt Bella tried to start in on Mother, she'd start hiccupping violently until she was willing to move on to a more neutral topic. She was gasping for breath and clutching her chest before she gave in.

Continuing, I say, "My elf is Dobby. He's a sweet little thing… my first friend when I was growing up. He does whatever I ask and I admit to abusing that devotion for longer than I should have - when I thought my father was perfect. When I noticed the difference between Pippy's cheerful demeanor and Druther's scowling sourpuss and realized that Dobby was starting to act like the latter, I changed my ways."

"Mmm… I can't wait," Hermione's voice mumbles sleepily as she nuzzles my chest. "The train leaves Saturday morning, so only two more days. But you should get back to our dorm before Filch catches you. You know how he is about curfew, even with us. I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow."

"Sleep well, Princess. I'll see you in the morning."

"G'night Drake. Love you," she murmurs into her pillow as I climb down from the bed.

When my feet are steady on the floor, I freeze, staring at her. She loves me? Her deep, even breaths tell me she's already asleep.

_She __**loves**__ me_?

Hermione Granger has driven me crazy – in both good and bad ways – since the day we met. Her sleepy confession does nothing but prove that fact further.

_She loves __**me**_?

Knowing she won't hear me, I lean over her prone form and press my lips to her earlobe. "I love you too, Mya. More than I thought was possible." I straighten up and pull the blanket tighter around her, trying to shake off the exposed feeling my admission gives and look at her face once more before leaving. In the dark, I almost miss the relaxed smile on her face and soft sigh that crosses her lips.

_Almost_.

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><p><strong>AN: So, since there is no Voldemort, there was no Death Eater riot at the Quidditch World Cup and Hermione didn't get ruffled over how Winky was being treated, which (in my opinion) is what started her whole S.P.E.W. thing. Also, per JKR, James Potter was independently wealthy and didn't have a profession because he didn't have to work. I just extended that thought process to all well-off purebloods. Also, since they have VERY minor roles in this story, I wanted to highlight (somewhat) the relationship between Hermione-Ron-Harry when their lives aren't being threatened every term. Thank each and every one who left a review, favorited, or is following this story. It's my first fully fleshed-out HP-universe story. Please keep the ball rolling! <strong>


	7. Chapter 6

**AN: In all honesty, this was one of my favorite chapters to write. Lucius is just SO fun to play with and the IMMACULATE portrayal of him by Jason Isaacs is where I pull a lot of his mannerisms and speech. Copious thanks to kjwrit and RealJena for assuring me that I'm on the right track and don't sound like an idiot. Any mistakes were made after I got it back. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Lucius POV<strong>

"Well Severus, you've gotten me here… what do you have to tell me?" My lip curls in disdain at the row of rundown brick houses before me.

Severus sneers and opens the door wide enough to admit me. "I know it's no Malfoy Manor, but not all of us require opulence and ostentation to live comfortably, Lucius. I have the information you demanded."

I stand on the doorstep, waiting for him to continue, but he stays silent, staring at me. "Well?" I ask impatiently.

"I'm quite sure that you don't want all of Cokeworth knowing these secrets. Come in. This revelation requires some information on your part."

Unsure as to why he can't just tell me what I want to know, I sigh in resignation and enter the hovel he calls a house, Druther shadowing me speechlessly. Not wanting my fine robes to be sullied by the threadbare furnishings of his gloomy den, I lean gingerly against his mantle and glare at him until he speaks.

"First to quell your greatest concern… the girl _is_ a pureblood. With a bit of testing and interpretation, I've also deduced the girl's family line," he states flatly. I can't hide my smile. Even without the knowledge, my Draco has _still_ chosen his own kind. My son's little jibe of 'Knowledge over purity' seems funny now. Severus continues with a roll of his eyes at my pride. "The family is one of good standing – wealthy, powerful, and proud – with nothing but typical bigotry and prejudice to tarnish their name."

The dig doesn't provoke me; I know very well who and what I am. My peers feel and act the same as me; I'm not ashamed of my superior status. "Tell me her family, Severus." How could a proud, pureblood couple give up their child? Then I think… perhaps one of my acquaintances had a rare but valuable pureblood mistress. The extortion opportunities this delightful nugget of information makes possible are endless. I school my features into nonchalance. "Who are her kin?"

He leans forward, elbows balances on his knees and fingers templed under his chin. "Tell me first Lucius – have either you or Narcissa strayed from your marriage vows?"

"What the bloody hell does that have to do with anything?" I demand. He simply stares at me with an arched brow. "No, never," I finally respond when it's obvious that he won't continue without an answer. "Our arrangement was fortunate in that neither of us wanted anyone else. Narcissa is my equal in every way a woman can equal a man. Neither of us has had the desire or inclination to wander." Her current mental state not withstanding.

"And how many stillbirths did your wife suffer through?" he asks in the same monotonous voice. "I believe you said after Draco was born that it was three?"

"Only one," I choke out after he catches my eyes and I feel a pressure in my head as my memories are sifted though. "Damn you," I groan weakly.

Malfoys _are not_ weak.

Severus leans back and the pressure vanishes. "How very fortunate that Draco was born as healthy as he was, especially for being premature. Was it mere coincidence that he survived when the other children were girls or did your father's will have something to do with that?"

"Go to hell, Severus. You know nothing about my life or family that matters. I did what I needed to keep my wife and my birthright," I flame at the potions master. "No dirty half-blood has the right to judge me!"

"How many times has your wife been obliviated, Lucius? How many unwanted daughters have been wiped from Narcissa's memory?" he asks tonelessly, not letting my slur affect him.

"All of them!" I roar. "Why would I allow my wife to feel that loss and mourn what could never be when I had the means to stop it?"

He turns his attention to Druther, who stoically only whimpers as his mind is opened. My elf collapses moments later and disgust emanates from the other wizard. "Infanticide, Lucius? For a bloody inheritance? And you didn't even have the bollocks to do it yourself! You made the elves do _your_ dirty work. How do you live with yourself?"

My jaw stiffens. "I haven't lost a minute of sleep over my actions. I did what I needed to do."

Severus sneers at me again. "And if one of those daughters had survived, you'd lose everything, wouldn't you? The Manor, the overflowing vaults… Draco's future inheritance – gone. What would you do then, Lucius?" He crosses the room to pull something from a satchel. "Have you ever _looked_ at Miss Granger? I know that you've seen her in passing, but have you ever looked at her as more than the mudblood who consistently bests your son?"

"Why would I?" I say carelessly, growing weary of Severus' tangents.

He holds out a picture to me, remaining silent until I take it from his hand. "Because if you'd ever looked at her without prejudice, you'd see that she's quite beautiful. Her features are unique to a certain family – hair, eyes, bone structure. Look closely at her and tell me who you see."

Rolling my eyes, I turn my attention to the photo in my hand. Knowing she's not _truly_ of lesser stock, I can look at the girl with new eyes. She's reclining against the trunk of a tree, reading. Her hair blows away from her face with a soft breeze and a small smile intermittently graces her lips.

Her sable curls are untamed and wild around her shoulders. The eyes that crinkle playfully with her grins are a unique black-brown, like dark chocolate, but with extraordinary green and bright gold flecks that only make the dominant color seem almost luminous. Her pert button nose, high cheekbones, and full lips seem familiar, but I don't know why. I drop my hand and smirk. "It shows that my son has spectacular taste in bed companions. I see nothing identifiable."

Severus' sallow complexion pales. "By Morgana, I hope one of them is smart enough to use protection…" he mutters under his breath, clearly underestimating my sense of hearing. He turns to glare at me. "The last daughter… what happened to her?"

I growl at him going off course again. "I put Narcissa under a sleep charm and handed the infant to her elf to dispose of."

"And the elf understood what you meant by 'dispose'?"

"Druther taught her with the previous…" I trail off. Although I may justify my actions, it doesn't mean I'm not affected internally by my previous choices. "What does this have to do with _anything_?" I ask gloomily, resigned to Severus telling me what he knows in his own way, on his own timetable.

"Look at the picture again Lucius, and let me force-feed you the information. Her hair – the color and the curls are reminiscent of Andromeda, wouldn't you agree? The eyes – I've never seen any witch with eyes that particular shade besides Bellatrix. And those lovely, delicate features that express her every emotion… they're the same features that you see every day, are they not?"

I grab the photograph from his hand to inspect the girl again. She is as he says – a perfect mix of the Black sisters. "No…" I whisper. "Andromeda or Bella…"

Severus gives me a superior sneer. "You think I didn't consider that? The potion's results were quite cryptic, as I warned you they could be. A cunning, deceptive Slytherin father and a Black, likely Slytherin mother – and married at the time of conception. As Ted Tonks was a Hufflepuff, that discounted Andromeda. Bellatrix was an option since Rodolphus had not yet been sent to Azkaban when the girl was conceived. Then I remembered I had Draco's blood left over from his infancy and I was ordered to prepare nutritional draughts to improve his growth. Imagine how horrified I was to get identical results to Miss Granger from your son's blood. Your Draco is in love and having sex with _his sister_."

My stomach turns and I lurch to the front door, throwing it open and vomiting in the street like a common drunk. I wipe my mouth on my sleeve, no longer caring for the state of the silk. My legs weaken under me and I collapse to the floor. "How?" I whimper.

Malfoys _do not_ whimper.

"I suspect that is a question for your wife's elf. Perhaps she didn't take 'dispose' to have the same _permanence_ that you did," he says with an arrogant smirk. "Poor Draco… losing everything he never worked for because he fell in love and you had to go digging. Do you realize that if you had let things be and not demand I pry into the girl's background, nothing would change? Of course, Draco would continue fornicating with your daughter. Your choice to hand the dirty work off to Narcissa's elf eighteen and a half years ago has resulted in the very definition of a lose-lose situation, no?"

If he didn't sound so smug and gleeful, I could almost consider him an ally. I mentally generate a list of issues I need to resolve. Killing the girl is not an option – she would be missed by too many and my revulsion toward her is too well-known. I need to find her price to make her leave my son before he impregnates her or proposes marriage. Everyone has a price, be it in favors or galleons. I also need to learn the cost for Severus to hold his tongue… and I hope it's a price I can pay. I flick my eyes to the strangely twinkling ebony orbs boring holes into me from across the room. "What is the cost of your silence, Severus?"

He taps his chin in thought. "I have no need or want for any part of your fortune. My employment is satisfactory… my home is comfortable. I cannot think of a single thing – _that you can provide_ – that I want. I know that my silence is of high value to you; as such I surmise the asking price should be high as well. Therefore, my charge for silence is _carte blanche_." When I narrow my eyes at his presumption, his thoughtful expression becomes triumphant. "Come now, Lucius. A single, open-ended, guaranteed favor to be used at my discretion can't be too high a price for someone like you to pay, especially for keeping this particular secret. Besides… it's not like you can deny me."

I could kill him or even just _obliviate_ him and end this entire mess of bargaining with a single wave of my wand. No sooner does the thought cross my mind does Severus smirk. "Such base impulses, Mr. Malfoy, to think of silencing me permanently or even wiping my mind clean of the knowledge. I knew your twisty mind would head in that direction eventually; you have become predictable after all these years. I was a Slytherin as well… know that I have measures in place to insure my place among the living with my memory intact. Take me out of the picture and you _will_ lose everything. That is a promise."

Snarling with helplessness, I have no choice but to give him a Wizard's Oath to grant his carte blanche favor whenever he wants it. Being indebted to another is a loathsome state of being, especially for a Malfoy. With a final sneer, I sweep from the industrial shanty he calls home and into the nearest alley to apparate back to the Manor.

Druther arrives in the sitting room directly after me and follows me to my study in subservient silence. The vacant halls echo eerily. Narcissa is taking care of her mad sister and Draco told me in his last letter that he would be spending his holiday at the school, finishing assignments and covering for absent prefects. The empty house is what I need to contemplate and carefully plan out my next steps, so I don't lose everything.

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><p><strong>AN: kjwrit said she enjoyed "Lucius getting and eighteen-year long nut tap". Made me cackle like a loon. So... <em>he knows<em>! Hope the reveal was as satisfying for you to read as it was for me to write. Please let me know thoughts!**


	8. Chapter 7

**AN: I want to give Draco and Hermione a little more uninterrupted, drama-free time together for the shit hits the fan. And it will... just not in this chapter. Muchas gracias to kjwrit and RealJena for making me sound good. Even a grammar-nazi like me can screw-up. Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Draco POV<strong>

"Fuck Mya, you can't imagine how long I've been dreaming about this…" I moaned against my lover's lips between kisses, which she returned enthusiastically.

On the train home, we kept to our separate cars and groups of friends. At King's Cross, once everyone had gone to their different destinations, we met in an out-of-order lavatory set as an apparition point. She clasped my arm tightly as I intended to bring us to just outside the Manor wards, since only Malfoys by blood or marriage can pass through. My distracted thoughts brought us instead directly into my bedroom. I was lucky I hadn't splinched her, but I assumed the side-along allowed her through the wards with me. We silently stared at each other, catching our breath from the dizzying, nauseating sensation before lunging at each other, not wanting to be separated for any longer than necessary. This time – the next seven days – was about us. No Potter, no Zabini, no Weasley, Nott, or Parkinson. _Only us_.

My fingers comb through her silky curls as she dozes next to me. I'm exhausted as well, but I can't stop touching the goddess next to me long enough to succumb to sleep. For two days we've not left my rooms as I promised her we wouldn't. Mya met Dobby when he discreetly left meals in the sitting room of my quarters. She may have thought I was joking in the hospital wing, but once here, she found I was entirely serious. There would be no comprehensible reason for us to leave my suite during this break.

Dobby pops in to drop off some books and snacks. I give him a comforting smile of thanks, which he returns hesitantly before wringing his long-fingered hands anxiously. "Master Draco…" he whispers in his high-pitched voice.

I pull the blanket higher over Hermione to warm her in my absence before slipping from the bed. "What's the matter, Dobby?" I ask carefully. Not much worries or upsets my usually-happy elf; I make it a point to pay attention when he's agitated.

"Master Draco sir, I heard from the kitchen elves that Druther has given them meal orders for the week. Sir, if Druther is home than…"

"Father will be too," I finish. "Damn. We can't stay if he's here. Dobby, keep our presence a secret and order the kitchen elves to do the same. Do whatever necessary to keep Father out of this room until we've gone… not that he has any reason to come in here anyway." I pull on black slacks and a blue jumper distractedly. "Keep an eye on this wing, Dobby," I tell him and head to the Manor's owlery to send a message to Madame Romerta, wanting to reserve a room for the remainder of the spring hols. Once there, I take a few moments to scribble to request on a spare piece of parchment before tying it to the leg of Adara, my mother's great gray owl. Stealthily, I make my way back through the corridors, prepared to wake Hermione, pack our things, and leave before anyone is the wiser.

My plans take a beating when I run head first into the very man I was hoping to avoid.

**Lucius POV**

Hearing muted steps in the passage across from my study gives me pause. My wife would announce herself with the clacking of her high heels on the marble floor, so I know it's not her. Slowly cracking open the door, I see a familiar blond head turn the corner in the direction of the owlery.

Draco is not supposed to be here. He informed me of his plans to remain at Hogwarts for the holiday weeks ago. His presence disturbs me. The direction he was heading confuses me further.

Several minutes later, I hear his steps coming closer. His demeanor is distracted; he's unforgivably careless, even in these familiar surroundings. Right before he passes, I step into his path. He gasps and jumps back in shock. "Father! What are you doing home?"

I clasp his shoulder in greeting, though slighter tighter than normal. "Draco, I live here. I could ask the same of you, however. Are you not supposed to be studying in your dorm while the mudblood is on break with her friends?" My spine twitches at referring to my dau… Miss Granger as such, but appearances need to be kept.

"I only came home for a moment, Father," he responds smoothly. Only my Slytherin instincts and paternal knowledge of the boy alert me to the lie. "Professor Lupin assigned a rather challenging report on the Unforgiveables. I wanted to use our library's resources to best My… ah… classmate for once," he states in a clearly forced bitter tone.

I roll my eyes, playing along. "How that half-blood headmaster justifies the continued employment of a werewolf is beyond me. Does he not care for the safety of the students trusted to his supervision?"

My son's aristocratic brow furrows in confusion. "He's a very good professor, Father. I've learned a lot from him. But… I should get back to Hogsmeade. I need to be back at school in time for dinner and rounds."

Another lie. "Of course Draco. I wouldn't want you to neglect your duties." He flashes me a relieved smile before continuing down the hall. "Er... Draco?"

He stops to face me again. "Yes?"

"Where are the books?"

Closing his eyes and shaking his head, my son breathes a wry chuckle. "I'm distracted Father, with N.E.W.T.S. approaching soon. Let me retrieve them and I'll be on my way."

I give Draco an indulgent smile before watching him backtrack, turning to the right to get to our massive library (rather than the left he took for the owlery). Once he's out of sight, I decide to confirm my suspicions and apparate to the sitting room of his suite… bypassing the elf he surely has guarding his door.

Sleeping, nestled in my son's silver bedclothes, is a head of glossy, coffee-colored curls. Her presence in Draco's bed is disturbing, but I use her repose to look upon the girl I now know to be my daughter. Informed as I was of her parentage, I'm disgusted with myself that I didn't see it sooner. Her face, relaxed in slumber, is a younger version of the features I've woken up to daily for over twenty years. The only characteristic I can see that she inherited from me is the porcelain complexion rather than the peaches-and-cream of the Sisters Black, although her slight frame reminds me of my petite mother. Narcissa, Andromeda, and Bellatrix are all taller than average.

While lost in thought and reflection, burnt umber eyes blink open drowsily. "M… Mr. Malfoy?" she squeaks, instinctively pulling the comforter tighter around her body.

"Miss Granger," I reply drily. "I expect Draco to return soon. He's in the library gathering research material."

"I… um… I… forgive me Mr. Malfoy, but why aren't you hexing me or calling me a mudblood?" she asks quietly.

I tilt my head in curiosity. "Why ever would I do something like that?"

"Because you hate my kind and don't want me with your son," she states matter-of-factly.

Of course she's correct about the last part, but for incorrect reasons. "Miss Granger, I would like to meet with you privately… soon. Is there any way… perhaps during the next Hogsmeade weekend, when you and I could speak confidentially. I give you my solemn oath as a wizard that I only want to speak with you."

"You don't want me to tell Draco, do you?" she asks perceptively.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I believe it would be in everyone's best interests to keep this solely between us. Do we have an accord, Miss Granger?"

She looks uncertain. "I don't like keeping things from Draco. Lies have a way of breeding until the truth behind them is unrecognizable."

I nod, knowing that fact better than ever with the information now at my disposal. "I agree. However, in this specific case, the full truth would do more harm than good and to more people that just Draco. You're a sensible young woman, Miss Granger. If you feel that my son needs to know what we discussed after we have our conversation, I'll give you my blessing to share the information with him. But not before."

Her eyes flick down and watches as her finger traces over delicate embroidery of the duvet. "I'm not comfortable with secrets, but I can't deny that I'm intrigued. If you can give me your word that this is not a ploy to hurt me, I'll agree."

"Miss Granger," I start with a cordial bow of my head, "though you may not believe it yet, I have _no_ desire to see harm come to you." I stand and edge toward the corner of the room. "I will owl you with details, but for now, I must go. Draco is returning, undoubtedly loaded down with unnecessary books. Treat my son well, Miss Granger," I say, forcing myself to ignore the pleading tone in my voice.

She nods fervently before shivering in response to the magic that washes over her when I silently cast a long term contraceptive charm. I slip into Draco's large closet when I see the door to his sitting room start to open and apparate back to my study after silencing the small chamber to hide the unmistakable sound. The bottle of Ogden's sitting on the polished walnut desk top has never been more welcome.

Half an hour later, my acute hearing picks up the muted pop of apparition, letting me know my son and his paramour have left. I'm letting myself believe that, although she was sorted into Gryffindor, Miss Granger is of pure Slytherin stock and will let herself follow those instincts. She will be able to accept that what I'm planning on offering her is in everyone's best interests… but especially hers.

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><p><strong>AN: Unfortunately, Narcissa's reactions are quite a few chapters away. I have 19 out of 20 chapters written, typed out, and betaed. Maybe the monster storm that will be giving me 12-18 inches of snow over the next 24 hours will encourage me to get off my butt and type out the last chapter. Any reviews, thoughts, or critiques will only influence me more to keep up the daily updates.<strong>


	9. Chapter 8

**AN: Lordy, I love playing with this guy. He's so twisty and manipulative. Thank you so much for the continued feedback. A great big THANK YOU to RealJena and kjwrit for making sure I don't "had" and "just" and "..." things to death. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Lucius POV<strong>

Almost four weeks later, I'm in the Hogs Head tavern staring across a dimly lit table at a concerned-looking Hermione Granger. "I've been on pins and needles for nearly a month, Mr. Malfoy. Please let me know why we're meeting."

I press my fingertips together and lock on to her espresso-colored eyes. "If I were to ask you to stop seeing my son romantically, no questions asked, what would your response be?"

"I can guarantee you that I would say 'Not a chance in hell without a bloody good reason'. Is that what this is about? You want me to break-up with Draco? I'm sorry, but you're wasting your time. I love him and he loves me, despite my so-called 'inferior' bloodlines."

She's so passionate – so very much like her mother and aunts when it comes to those she cares for. "And what do you know of your ancestry, Miss Granger… the origins of those bloodlines?"

Her graceful fingers run through her untamed curls distractedly. "It's Hermione, Mr. Malfoy. Formality without respect seems forced and disingenuous. To answer your question, I know nothing. I was adopted when I was left on my parents' doorstep after I was born… mere hours after, according to my parents. As hard as it may be for you to believe, I'm not stupid. I knew from early on that it was unlikely that an olive-skinned blonde and a red head with a ruddy complexion would conceive a child with my characteristics. I suspected when my mother told me of my magic showing itself on my third birthday, but they told me outright when I got my Hogwarts letter.

"My mother is descended from a long line of squibs. She told me that since my parentage is unknown, I'd most likely have to face scorn, seeing as my adopted family is non-magical. It never really bothered me except when purebloods like Pansy, Marcus, Daphne, and even Draco expected me to treat them as though they were superior to me… especially when I could best them in any subject without really trying.

"So knowing all that, Mr. Malfoy… knowing that I could be pureblood, half-blood, even truly a dreaded mudblood… why do you want me to stop seeing your son?"

Her dark eyes glare into mine as though she can see the secrets of my soul and I try to hide my shudder. "I've spoken with Professor Snape regarding your goals for the future, _Miss Granger_," I say, emphasizing the formality. "He tells me that you are rather proficient in potions, transfiguration, charms, and advanced defensive spells. He also informs me that your goal is to be a healer. I'm willing to make you the offer of a lifetime. If your N.E.W.T.s are as high as everyone believes they will be, I can guarantee you acceptance at the Wenlock School of Healing and Potions. It is in America and works in cooperation with the Muggle hospital Johns Hopkins." Her eyes widen and jaw drops slightly before schooling her features back into nonchalance. "In addition to the hefty tuition being covered in its entirety, I will give you a vault of ten million galleons… upon ending your relationship with my son."

In her shock, she several times to say something, only to close her mouth wordlessly. Finally hurt furrows her brow and darkens her already dusky eyes. "Does my relationship with Draco offend you _that_ much? So much so that you would part with a fortune and attempt to send me an ocean away? While you doubtlessly parade pureblood heiresses before him without end, encouraging him to bed each and every one until my bushy, muddy head is nothing but a faded memory?" She stands and starts tugging on her jacket. "I thought you had _some_ morals… some care for what makes your son happy. And I do, Mr. Malfoy. Draco is happy with _me_. I'm beyond insulted that you think me so shallow that you can buy me away from my relationship. I'm not a pauper or a gold-digging trollop. I would love your son even if he didn't have a single knut to his name!" She sweeps from the table and storms to the door. Before she exits she turns and narrows those flashing, expressive eyes in my direction. "And if you think I'm keeping this from Draco, you're sorely mistaken."

I rush to the door and clasp her arm tightly to tow her back to the table. She stands as I reclaim my seat, arms crossed over her chest, glowering at me. I gesture for her to sit again, only making her expression darken. "Miss Granger, SIT DOWN," I command firmly. Something in my tone makes her obey without argument.

Taking a moment to put order to my thoughts, I stare at the rickety cherry table between us. I truly thought my offer would have been accepted without argument or question. It seems I've underestimated the Gryffindor's feelings for my son. As much as I had hoped to avoid a frank discussion for the reasons her relationship with Draco should end, it seems that providing her with _all_ the details is inevitable.

"First, let me congratulate you on your perception. My plans for Draco upon the completion of his schooling are as you suggest. I plan to march every pureblood princess here and on the continent past his eyes and through his bed to ensure an honorable marriage and a pure heir. My goals for my son are lofty and it wouldn't do to have you distracting him." It's a shame... were she anyone else, with pure blood, they would make an incredible pair.

Crystalline tears collect on her ebony lashes. "I can give Draco all of that! A respectable wife… a talented child… I can be everything you want for Draco if you could just look past your prejudices and see that I make him happy!"

I lean forward and lock eyes with the young witch, wanting her to see my sincerity. "I have no doubts that my son loves you or of your feelings for him. Were it not for who you are, I would give you my blessing now and send Draco his _grandmere_'s engagement ring. But Miss Granger – Hermione – I simply cannot allow that to happen."

"Who I am?" she squeaks. "_Who I am_ is a capable, powerful witch of legal age with plenty of money of my own. _Who I am_ is a woman that loves your son for who he is and not what he has. I ask you Mr. Malfoy – Lucius – who am I that is so abominable that you can't conceive a future for your son that includes me?"

I have to tell her. I pull out a vial and let three colorless drips fall into my drink. "This is veritaserum," I say. "I want there to be no doubt when I tell you." I take several long sips of the elf-made wine before me, close my eyes, and wait for the serum to take effect. "Miss Granger, in an effort to gain your trust, I will have no choice but to answer any question you ask truthfully."

She sneers at me while thinking. "Nice diversion, Mr. Malfoy. All right… what is your most closely guarded secret?"

The first one to come to mind is something only two other people know… and one of them is dead. "I have a half-sister, the result of my father's insane obsession with a Muggle he saw while travelling in Germany. She remains there to this day, unacknowledged by her only remaining family and ineligible to any claim of the Malfoy fortune due to her mother's lack of magic."

The girl before me rolls her eyes. "Only _you_ would think that having a half-blood sister is a shameful dark secret, but I suppose I believe your potion. What is it you want me to have no doubt about?"

"Miss Granger, you are my daughter… Draco's sister," I say softly, flatly.

Her gasp of shock seems to pull all the breathable air away from the table between us. "No…" she whimpers quietly. "Nonono…"

Cautiously I take her hand in mine and give her an honest account of her birth and explain why I couldn't then and cannot now claim her as my child. I tell her of the will and the requirement of a first-born male heir. Her eyes and lips remain closed during the tale and how the truth was discovered. I end by telling her, "My earlier offer to you was not only meant as a bribe to lure you away from Draco. You are still a Malfoy by blood and those galleons would be yours if you were younger than Draco rather than older. As much as I would like to claim an astoundingly talented young witch like you as my progeny, I cannot. To do so would cost my family their home, Draco his inheritance, and possibly my wife her sanity. I beg of you Hermione… accept my offer. End your relationship with Draco in such a way that he doesn't pine for you and want you back."

"How long have you known, Mr. Malfoy? How long have you known who I am? How long have you known and let Draco and I…" she trails off and covers her mouth, shaking her head.

"At this point, please call me Lucius," I ask of her. "Not long. I learned the information the night before I spoke to you in Draco's bedroom. I took the time between then and now to arrange the training in America and for the vault in your name. I would have eventually given them to you regardless… although the vault and tuition will evaporate into my cousin's hands if he learns your true identity. And Draco can't know," I warn her.

"Lucius," she whispers, my name sounding odd in her voice, untainted by its usual venom, "how do I… it's breaking my heart to even think of hurting him like this. I don't know if I can do it. There's no way I can believably convince him that I don't love him anymore… and I _won't_ do it before N.E.W.T.s. I know Draco well and he'd be hopeless if things were to end before the exams."

Her dedication to her schooling is admirable… if a little annoying. I can finally understand Draco's complaints over the past almost-seven years.

"_Imperio_ me," she exclaims suddenly.

My jaw drops. "Excuse me?"

"I had to do the same research on Unforgiveables that Draco had to do and the books that he borrowed from the Manor were invaluable. You can specify the curse so that my knowledge and studying won't be affected. _Imperio_ me to be cold and distant to Draco. Curse me to hurt him so badly that he never wants to see me again… after the N.E.W.T.s. Meet me at King's Cross after school ends to lift the curse. Finally, arrange for me to take the first portkey to Maryland in July so I have time to say goodbye to my friends and family.

"I hope to all that is good and light that there is some kind of karmic retribution." She wipes her damp cheeks with her palms. "I pray that someday you truly understand how this is ripping me apart." Her voice drops so low I can only just hear her. "Part of me wants one more night with him… one more day to feel his love for me before I break him." Reddened eyes lift to meet mine. "This _will_ break him, Lucius. Before I agree to anything, promise me that you and Narcissa will do all you can to help him heal. Promise that you'll take care of him after I hurt him so deeply."

"I think I know my son. I'll get him past whatever superficial wounds you inflict," I tell her, regaining my haughty tone.

Her spine stiffens and her eyes flash dangerously. "I reckon I know _my brother_ better than you know your son, Lucius. I know what a smart, sensitive, caring man he is under the cold, Slytherin façade. Give me your word that you will help him through his hurt the way that he needs to, not the way you think he should," she hisses, sounding more Slytherin than I've ever heard her.

I'm almost proud.

We hammer out our deal to the smallest of details. We both pull out our wands to make a binding Wizard's Oath: She gets the school and vault for her silence. We are both bound from ever mentioning her true parentage to someone who doesn't already know (as I may have some need to speak with Severus regarding her in the future) and walk her to the edge of Hogsmeade silently, both of us wishing our circumstances were anything but what they are. I give her the small golden key to her new Gringott's vault, which she pockets quickly before closing her eyes. Knowing our deal and recognizing it's for the best, I draw my wand and take a deep breath.

"_Imperio_."

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><p><strong>AN: Who saw that coming? Huh? Well, thanks to the awesome encouragement, I have the first ~2500 words of the last chapter typed out. Fair warning, that one is going to be a monster. There's LOTS of foreshadowing in this chapter. If you can pick up on it, send me a review and let me know what you think it is. Thanks for reading. The support really makes me want to update more often.<strong>

**Canon: Bridget Wenlock -_ Famous Arithmancer who discovered the magical properties of the number seven. Wenlock was famously paranoid about other witches and wizards copying her ideas, which led her to write her notes in invisible ink. Unfortunately, she was also very absent-minded, which resulted in many hours spent casting a Revealing Charm on various scraps of paper, tying to locate some important theory or calculation. Bridget lived in Tinworth. (direct from Harry Potter Lexicon)_. Imagine me going through the who "Who's Who in the Wizarding World" and trying to find a name of someone who would have an alternative healing school named after them.**


	10. Chapter 9

**AN: This is rather short, just to show what and how the _imperio_ works. Blessings for RealJena and kjwrit. Both are awesome ladies that really deserve thanks for their help. Is it weird that _THIS_ is the chapter that gets posted on Valentine's Day?**

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><p><strong>Draco POV<strong>

"We're done, Mya," I say, pulling her against me. The week leading up to our exams was tense. Hermione was utterly focused on studying and practicing, determined to get an "O" on every test, written and practical. Her single-mindedness surprisingly encouraged everyone around her to work harder too. It was common to see Mya with her bulging backpack, trudging off to the Gryffindor common room to help Weasley and Potter prepare and study. Perhaps she helped others in her house as well (as it was one of the jobs of the Head Girl to mentor those who needed it), but the only ones she mentioned were those bloody best friends of hers.

I didn't begrudge her falling into bed alone, mentally drained, every night. Merlin knows I felt the same; we had the same classes, after all. But I missed her. I longed for her to impulsively wrap her arms around me and kiss me like she used to. I craved the feel of her skin next to me at night. All I wanted was some sign of affection; it had to be my exhausted imagination that she would flinch and shrink away from my touch. It was only the stress of testing. Now that that distraction is in the past, we can relax and get back to how we used to be.

"Come on Draco… I don't have time for this right now." She shrugs away from me uncomfortably. "There's a party in the Gryffindor common… probably _all_ the common rooms… for the fifth and seventh years that have finished their exams. It's one of the last chances I'll have to celebrate and hang out with my housemates before school is out." She gives me a surprisingly sarcastic pout at my look of disappointment. "Don't tell me that you don't want to hang out and let loose with the Slytherins one more time before you all go your separate ways."

She had a point, although if I had my way, there wouldn't be a choice between my snobbish housemates and the girl I love. "Fine," I say coldly and smirk at how she flinches at my tone. "It _has_ been far too long since I graced the dungeon with my presence." I grab my green house robe with silver embroidery from the hook by the door. "Don't wait up, _Granger_," I growl before storming from our room.

Spending time with the Slytherins is no longer the pleasant diversion it once was. Pansy, Tracey, and Millicent still babble and gossip vapidly. Crabbe and Goyle mutter and grunt monosyllabically about food and Quidditch. Only Blaise, Daphne, and Theo are able to carry on a multi-subject, intelligent conversation. And, being Slytherin House, the firewhiskey flows in celebration for the end of testing… the end of term… the end of schooling for the seventh years. Deciding to self-medicate my frustration and tensions with the Head Girl away for the moment, I get well and truly pissed before I resolve to weave my way back to my dorm. Morgana help any unfortunate soul I come across in the corridors. I may be drunk, but I'm still Head Boy and it's after curfew. No one said I had to stop being a cold bastard to the underclassmen (or Gryffindors) breaking the rules.

I almost make it to the snake and lioness portrait when I hear a masculine chuckle followed by a girlish sigh and giggle. No matter how smashed I am, I know those feminine sounds like I know my own name. I follow the noises to an alcove behind a tapestry of Malodora Grymm and her charmed mirror.

The dim light from the hall doesn't help much to illuminate the recesses of the dark nook. All I can see is glittery bronze thread from a Ravenclaw robe and the lighter metallic gold from a smaller Gryffindor. The introduction of the weak torchlight causes the occupants to separate.

"Hi Malfoy," giggles the girl and I can smell the brandy on her breath from two meters away. She hiccups and snickers again before continuing. "You know Cadmus Bradley, right?"

The dark Ravenclaw smirks at me and wraps his arm around Hermione's shoulders, looking smug. I only spare him a short glance before I turn my full inebriated attention to the crocked girl in front of me. "Not very Head Girl-like behavior, Granger. Getting caught out past curfew and snogging strange boys… tsk-tsk. Whatever would your friends think?" I ask, forcing smug arrogance to mask my rage. _How could she do this_?

"Oh, get over yourself, Malfoy," she laughs between hiccups. "It's a night to celebrate! Even a pompous pureblood like yourself can cut loose and live a little." Her eyes narrow a little as she looks over me. "Or maybe that's just a privilege for those of us born _without_ an aristocratic wand stuck up our arse. Mind giving us a little privacy, Malfoy? I'm not exactly decent for company right this second."

Before I can make myself face the other way, I see the girl I want_ed_ for forever fumble with the buttons on her blouse before adjusting the garment beneath it. I hear the snick of a zipper and clear sounds of wet kissing behind me once I do turn. I leave the alcove and make it into my common room, where I sit stiffly on the couch, shaking and seething.

Several minutes later, Hermione prances into the dorm like she hasn't shattered my heart. I shoot to my feet and stand over her, staring her down. "What the bloody fuck, Mya?"

"Untwist your knickers, Malfoy," she drawls with a curled lip. "Surely you don't expect better of a _mudblood_ like me."

My eyebrows rise as my eyes widen. "When is the last time I called you that?"

She rolls her gorgeous espresso-colored eyes and sidesteps me with a careless wave. "I know you've _thought_ it. Someone raised the way you were never really overcomes their prejudices. And besides… it's not like anyone would ever truly accept 'this'," she gestures between us. "My friends hate you, your friends hate me… and your parents would see me hanging, chained to the walls of the Manor's dungeon, before they'd allow their precious heir to taint the Malfoy bloodline. We were stupid to even start this, so now… I'm ending it."

The surly disdain on her face makes me want to shake sense into her, but I know it would do no good. She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me, daring me to argue. Even pissed as I still am (and she as well), I can't challenge the main part of her rant. Neither group of friends would ever accept "us" and my father… In his letters, his bigotry toward 'her kind' was more recent focused toward her specifically and how neither he nor my mother would ever accept me with less than a pureblood. I always thought that as long and Mya and I were together, we could handle the jibes, the dirty looks, and foul rumors. She obviously doesn't have the same faith.

"You know what, Granger, You're absolutely right. I must have been _confunded_ to think that I could ever love a faithless, cheating, swotty little bitch like you. You're doing me a favor, you know? Without you panting after the Malfoy vaults and a respectable name, I can focus my attentions on someone more worthy than a social-climbing, wannabe, hopped-up little _MUDBLOOD_!" Even saying the slur makes me want to vomit, but I want every lie I spew at her to hurt. Her stark white face, crimson cheeks, and glistening eyes let me know I've succeeded. I sneer at her with all the contemptuousness I can muster and retire to my room.

Once I close the door, I sink onto my bed, holding my bowed head in my hands. I know if she were to knock on my door before the train leaves tomorrow and simply smile, I'd take her back in a heartbeat. I love her and that's not something that can just be erased. I'll get her back… even if I need dark magic to do so.

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><p><strong>AN: Don't be too hard on Hermione... remember that her will is under Lucius' control and he knows how best to hurt his son (but for the better good, of course). After getting 16 inches of snow over the last 48 hours, I'm good-and-well snowed in, so I have nothing much to do besides read and write. Please encourage me to do the latter by sending me the former in the form of lovely reviews! :)<strong>

*Canon: There was a Ravenclaw named Bradley in the Trio's fifth year. Harry played him in Quidditch. I gave him the first name Cadmus... a dragon slayer from Greek mythology. Just me trying to be cute.


	11. Chapter 10

**AN: So, to answer a question, the last chapter _was_ the half-way point. We actually aren't going to hear from Hermione herself until the last chapter. Time line for this chapter is about 10-14 days after the last one, after the end of their 7th Year. And, this chapter definitely deserves the "M" rating. It's detailed, but for a very specific reason. Enjoy and see you at the end.**

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><p><strong>Theo POV<strong>

I shake Father's hand before shrinking my trunks for travel. It's not often I see pride in his dark turquoise eyes, but my admittance to the Wenlock School has put the rarely-seen emotion on his face for all to see.

Before I step out the door, I mentally review everything I've packed to make sure nothing important has been forgotten. Once I'm sure I have everything, I grab my ticket and apparate to the atrium of the Ministry.

I spent yesterday saying my farewells to my few close friends. Most of them are wealthy many times over and enjoy living lives of leisure. The option is available to me as well, but not doing anything productive with my time is just not appealing. Once I received my N.E.W.T.s scores, I immediately knew where my talents would be best fostered. Father's influence, name, and numerous galleons secured my admission to one of the best healer training programs in the Western Hemisphere.

From the directory by the lifts, I locate the International Portkey Office. The crowd on Level Six is larger than normal, especially for a Sunday; the portkeys to other countries need to be approved and cleared by both ministries before they can be scheduled, so there aren't many chances to get one. However, only two others are in the line for the torn and stained lace bonnet heading to Baltimore. The first is an elderly gentleman with nothing but a bouquet of flowers and a hopeful expression. The other is a girl appearing to be my age from the brief glance I got at her profile before she turned to redeem her ticket. The sable curls that tumble down her back are familiar, but it's the delicate features and brown-sugar eyes that bring recognition. "_Granger_?" I exclaim, surprised at her presence.

"Nott," she replies with a nod before turning her attention back to the Daily Prophet resting on her lap.

"What are you doing, going to America?" I ask. There aren't many Muggle-borns that are able to afford the extravagant tuition of many of the post-graduate training schools.

Granger sighs and folds her paper. "I've been accepted to Wenlock, just as I assume you have. A very generous, _anonymous_ benefactor has provided me with tuition and a stipend for living expenses. My parents know what an honor admittance to Wenlock is – the Wizarding equivalent of the Russell Group or America's Ivy League. Have you been to America before?"

I check my watch and sit beside her. We have half an hour before the portkey leaves. "A few times, but never to Maryland. Some of the older cities like Boston, Chicago, and especially New Orleans have fascinating Wizarding districts. I'm looking forward to exploring Washington and Philadelphia… maybe even make a day trip up to New York during some time off."

She scoffs at my wanderlust. "You know we're going to be lucky to just sleep between classes and studying? It will be a while before you have time for little trips and exploration."

I gave her a smirk. "For you, perhaps. I, however, am exceptionally brilliant. Did you not notice me in all of you classes last year – the same advanced level N.E.W.T.s classes you shared with Malfoy?" By her brow furrowed in confusion, I can see that she did not. "I assume from the time you spent in the library before the testing, you were cramming that muddy little brain of yours with as many facts as it could hold."

"I'm not a damn Mudblood!" she hisses and seems to choke. I look at her curiously. "Well, my mum did some research of her family tree. She's a squib, you know? Apparently she's something like fifth-cousins with Sirius Black and Dra… with Malfoy's mother. Her great-great-great grandmother was Phineas Nigellus Black's sister. It's a distant relation, but there _is_ magic in my blood. Besides, did you ever consider I was using the library to avoid Malfoy? It certainly wasn't to study."

I chuckle at her self-righteous expression. Maybe we have more in common that I thought. Only her Muggle roots kept me from admiring her out-of-control hair and ink stained fingers during our shared classes. Knowing she has Wizarding ancestry… she suddenly doesn't seem so untouchable.

We banter back and forth for the few minutes remaining before our portkey is called at noon. After the pull to the navel and blurry spinning, the three of us manage to land more or less steadily in a darkened office in Penn Station. A young woman with an unfortunate case of acne peeks her head in the door. "Right on time. You two going to Wenlock, come with me. It's only seven o'clock here. You can wait two hours for the side-along guide to take you to the campus or hire a taxi to get you to the gates. That's the only part of the campus Muggles can see."

Granger and I exchange glances. I'm all for waiting for the guide, but she grabs my arm. "Come along, Nott. I know bravery isn't a Slytherin trait, but I promise to protect you from the big, scary, yellow car." She tugs me behind her to the sidewalk where she waves her hand frantically. In response, a shockingly lemon colored vehicle pulls forward and parks by the curb.

She pulls me into the backseat with her and gives the driver an address. He nods silently and pulls away from the station. Granger leans back into the seat and turns to me. "First time in a car, Nott?" she asks quietly, with a smirk.

I shake my head in response, although the only other motor vehicle I've been in was charmed by the Ministry. I look out at the scenery, just watching the city wake up. Twenty minutes later, the car slows to a stop in front of two massive stone columns and a gargantuan wrought-iron gate. "Wenlock Park. It's been closed for years," the driver says in a thick Arabic accent. Granger just smiles and pays the fare as she had the foresight to not only exchange Wizarding currency for Muggle, but British pounds for American dollars. Giving us a final, uncertain look, the driver leaves us alone on the empty sidewalk.

Granger pats her sleeve uncertainly, smiles with what looks like relief, and walks toward the gates. Before reaching them, she turns. "Aren't you coming?" The bewildered look on my face is her answer. "Oh honestly Theodore… did you read _any_ of the paperwork the school sent?" I shake my head; I stopped reading after being informed that a guide would apparate us to the campus. She sighs with frustration. "The gates are enchanted. They respond to the magic cores of most wands so wizards and witches can pass through."

That's brilliant. My beech wand with a rare augurey feather core has been strapped to my forearm for safekeeping since the morning. I realize Granger's must be as well and follow her brisk stride through the iron as though it's air. Before our eyes, the decaying park transforms to a majestic campus with pristine stone buildings and lush emerald grounds. My companion withdraws her carved wand. Laying it flat in her palm, she whispers, "Point me." The stick spins and she heads in the direction it indicates. She obviously knows more about this school and its layout than I do.

It takes thirty minutes of leisurely strolling and companionable chatter to reach the orientation table. We're given our class and dormitory assignments. After looking over the papers silently, Granger takes mine and hands me hers.

We share several classes and are assigned to the same co-ed dorm, but not the same suite or floor. Our classmates are truly international. Her suitemates are Sophie from France, Alexei from Russia, and Eric from Sweden. Mine are Stan from Poland, Isobel from Texas, and Thalia from Greece.

As is becoming habit, we walk to the dormitory hall together, still chatting about our expectations for our classes, what we want to concentrate our studies on, and what kind of work with the Muggle hospital would bridge their world and ours without breaking the International Code of Secrecy. We part ways in the lobby to investigate our separate rooms.

I'm the first to move into the suite, but the rooms are all the same, size-wise. I pick the one farthest from the bathroom and enlarge my trunks. After a bit of personalized decoration to liven up the bland room, I take a more detailed tour of my new living area. The front door opens to a large sitting room with a kitchen off to the right. A two-shower, four-sink lavatory is at the start of the hall to the bedrooms. Those each have comfortable beds, large desks, and a closet and wardrobe charmed to hold any amount of clothes.

I meet Granger back in the lobby. The time difference has both of us ready for a meal. We walk down a moderately busy street trying to find somewhere that appeals to us both. I scan over dodgy brick facades for pawn shops and liquor stores when a difference appears. Smack between a boarded up deli and a scary "beauty supply" store with various lengths and colors of hair hanging in the window (barbaric!), there is traditional Tudor siding and an old-script sign reading "The Bludger and Owl". I nudge Granger's arm to get her attention; her eyes widen and she sees the building and reads the sign. "What do you think… like The Leaky Cauldron?" she asks softly. I nod and we head in tentatively.

There aren't many things I like more than being right. The patrons in robes and choices of beverage specials that change by themselves on the chalkboard behind the bar prove, without a doubt, that this is a Wizarding establishment. We find seats and order from the middle-aged witch who approaches the table. After Granger finishes her beef stew and I practically scrape the plate for crumbs of my shepherd's pie, we get instructions from our waitress on how to enter Baltimore's Wizarding shopping district.

Chimeron Boulevard is similar to Diagon Alley, but far more modern and a good deal smaller. We head first to the American branch of Gringott's so Granger can exchange her Muggle money back to galleons, sickles, and knuts. Once done there, we pull out the supply lists that came with our class schedules. Looking down the street we see that Flourish and Blotts is an international chain. Granger enters the bookstore ahead of me with such a reverent smile it's as though she's a pilgrim reaching her chosen shrine. We take our time browsing the aisles and pulling the needed tomes from the shelves and have to part with close to a hundred galleons each for the books alone.

Several hours later and much gold lighter, Granger and I return to the pub for some drinks to end the day. Our previous table is unoccupied, so we take our earlier seats, facing each other.

"So Granger… how did you find the fortitude to part ways with the esteemed Messers Potter and Weasley? I thought the three of you were as close as Cerberus."

She rolls her eyes. "Well Nott, first, referring to me as part of a three-headed dog does not make you sound clever, just mean. Second, I was a Gryffindor – I have fortitude to spare. Third… Harry and Ron grew apart from me last year. They had their girlfriends and Quidditch; I had my Head Girl duties and studying for N.E.W.T.s. We're still friends, but nowhere near as close as we once were."

I smirk, feeling devilish. "And you and Malfoy never did any normal, teenaged experimentation in that big Heads' Dorm? All that time alone… two hormonal kids…"

Granger's already fair skinned face pales further and her jaw tightens. "I don't like what you're implying. Everyone knows that Dra… Malfoy and I only tolerated each other to do our jobs. To suggest otherwise…" She shudders, but it seems forced, then shakes her head as though ridding herself of the idea before faking a bright smile. "You know, it seems wrong that we've known each other for seven years and don't really know anything beyond name, blood status, and inter-house rumors. How about we play Twenty Questions over a few drinks to learn a bit more? It's nice to have someone around from home… it's not quite so lonely."

I absolutely agree, even if that familiar face is that of a female Gryffindor. I nod a say, "I'll start… what was your favorite class during the entire seven years at Hogwarts?"

She taps her lip with a pink polished fingernail while she thinks. "Seventh Year Potions," she answers finally. "Even though he was absolutely horrid to non-Slytherins, Snape is a renowned Potions Master and learning from him, as disagreeable as he was, actually made me want to work harder. Um… same question."

Our various inquiries about school and home lives flow into easy conversational tangents. Her butterbeer eventually changes to appleblossom wine; I switch from strawberry soda to firewhiskey. Time flies and soon we're comfortable laughing and talking as though we've been friends for years.

It has to be the alcohol. Nothing else can explain my following actions… or hers.

One minute we're chatting and sniggering over… _something_; the next I'm throwing change on the table while she's chewing enthusiastically on my neck and grabbing my arse. The bartender smirks when he gives us the spell to open the room I decide to rent when I realize that neither of us is in any condition to try to navigate a strange city.

I don't want to tell her that she's my first. I'm speechless at the sight of her undressing; while her body is perfect with completely feminine dips and curves, it doesn't totally affect me that way I expect. When she's down to her bra and knickers, she starts (somewhat clumsily) undressing me. My clothes are tossed away just as carelessly as hers were and when I'm down to my pants, she pulls me in for a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Her bare breasts feel nice pressed against my chest, but nothing more than that. _Just nice_.

I try to shake off the feeling by letting my hands explore her tits – every soft, sensitive inch of them – before gently plucking and pinching her tawny nipples to erect buds. She sighs in pleasure and starts kissing her way down my torso.

Whatever I was expecting to feel was blown away (no pun intended) by the way it feels for her delicate hands to pull down my briefs and confidently wrap her lips around my cock. My knees almost give out when her tongue swirls around the tip and my hands instinctively nest in her feral curls. My eyes close as she bobs up and down; I don't want to come down her throat though and pull back when it feels too close.

I recline on the bed and pull her on top of me. Neither of us speak as she straddles my thighs and rocks her hips over mine, coating my length in her wetness. She whimpers and I moan, feeling my member rub over her bundle of nerves, making her gasp and twitch. Her fingers wrap around me, lining me up, and my eyes roll back as she slowly sinks down, letting her tight warmth engulf me. We both groan in satisfaction at the sensation. She takes the control, rocking and flexing her hips, bracing herself with her hands on my chest. I know I'm not going to last… this feels too good… but not the _amazing_ I was expecting. She lifts and dips taking me as deep as possible; I feel her hand reach between us and start rubbing in quick, tight circles. Her breath stutters right before she stiffens and cries out something I can't understand over the white noise of deafening pleasure that rushes through my head with my own orgasm.

Her muscles fail; she collapses next to me and turns on her side, presenting me with her back. I shift to my own side and prop myself up on an elbow. "Granger?" I ask, looking over her shoulder to see her face.

She hastily wipes the dampness from her cheeks and plasters on the fakest smile I've ever seen from a non-Slytherin. "That was… lovely, Theo… but I'm pretty sure we can both agree that this was a mistake."

I can't muffle my sigh of relief. Lovely is a perfect description: pleasant enough to kill some time, but not the end-all-be-all of pleasurable experiences. "If it's any consolation Gr… er… Hermione, I agree. Not that you weren't brilliant, but I think my… er… _attractions_ may lean in a different direction." She turns to her other side to face me and blinks with confusion. Not that I blame her; this is something I've only just worked out for myself. "You're a delightful woman and very beautiful, but…" I trail off with a shrug and her expression clears with understanding.

"You prefer _Earl_ Gray to Darjeeling. I get it. I'm personally more of a chamomile fan myself, but my favorite blend… isn't something I can treat myself to." She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. "If nothing else, we've both learned that we can be friends, but not much else."

I nod, seeing her point and amused by her characterizations. But I can't help but wonder who her ideal cup of tea is and why she can't have it. I gently sweep her hair back from her face then lie back. We have a week before classes start and I decide to follow Granger's lead: bank up on sleep while we can before the training program steals away any allowance for rest or relaxation.

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><p>*<strong>Canon<strong>: an augurey is a breed of Irish phoenix, per the Harry Potter lexicon. Also, Isla Black was the sister of Phineas Nigellus who was blasted from the Black Family Tree for marrying "Muggle" Bob Hitchens. I took the liberty of having at least one of their children become a squib and pass that lack of magic down through generations.

***Reference for American Readers**: The Russell Group is a collection of 24 prestigious UK universities like Oxford and Cambridge.

**AN: Don't be too hard on her. Lots of people do stupid stuff on the rebound. And I couldn't resist, but I used some of the Southern Vampire Mysteries characters as the suitemates. I hope you enjoyed. Please let me know thoughts!**


	12. Chapter 11

**AN: A lot of people are asking about Narcissa and unfortunately, she's not going to show up personally for another 3 chapters. There's an important reference to her in here through. My everlasting thanks to RealJena and kjwrit for their beta and prereading services. Enjoy...**

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><p><strong>Sirius POV<strong>

"Shh, little one," Anita coos to the blond newborn in her arms. I sit in the den watching my wife pace while we wait for the medi-witch to finish with Hermione. No one was more surprised than I when she turned up on my doorstep late Christmas night. I, of course, knew she was good friends with my godson, but I was puzzled as to why she'd visit me alone.

I invited her in and Nita offered her a drink; she accepted juice or water. Her molasses-colored eyes were red and swollen. She worried her lower lip with her teeth while we waited – patiently and curiously – for her to speak. Finally she nodded, coming to a silent decision with herself and stood up. With a wave of her wand, there was a brief shimmer and her appearance changed. Not her features or her stature, but her formerly loose t-shirt and fleece yoga pants now showed a definite and distinctive swelling at her midsection. I crossed my arms over my chest and cocked an eyebrow at my young guest. "Healer training going well, I take it?"

My wife smacked my arm when Mione's eyes filled. "Mum and Dad just kicked me out after yelling for hours about how disappointed in me they are. They wouldn't even listen to how I plan to finish my training and take care of this baby at the same time! I can't go to Molly or Lily because Harry, Ron, and I just aren't that close anymore… and you know full well what their reaction would be!" I nodded… they would take the mickey out of the bookworm getting knocked up. My godson and his friend were loyal, but they were also somewhat cruel boys who needed to mature a bit faster than they had. "I know you can keep a secret, Sirius. Without my parents, I just need a roof over my head for the rest of the holiday. If it's too much of an imposition, I can make arrangements for a hotel, but the idea of spending the rest of the break alone is awful and the portkey doesn't leave for Maryland until January second. I promise I'll stay quiet and out of the way; I have a lot of studying to do anyway. I can chip in for food and I won't be a burden. I know you have the room… please Sirius?"

It seemed unbelievable that this girl - no, woman - was the same infant in the arms of my cousin's house-elf more than nineteen years ago. I watched her grow up after she coincidentally formed a friendship with Harry, but I never let on that I knew who she really was. My knowledge that she was family plus the sympathetic look on Nita's face made the decision for me. "You can stay, Hermione. I won't tell Harry or Ron that you're here or the reason why if they visit. I would take care to keep up that concealment charm though, as they tend to drop by unannounced."

Her whole body seemed to relax with relief and she took a seat in a red velvet armchair by the fire. Anita asked her about the training program; Hermione's face lit up as she described the cases she was working on and the research she was involved in. She said that she had done a few short rotations through the different specialties and was leaning toward concentration in either magical bugs or creature induced injuries. The Muggle hospital that Wenlock partnered with offered research and equipment never seen or used in the Wizarding world before and that the cooperation was leading to a higher healing rate than ever before.

When Hermione finished her flagon of juice, she stretched in the chair so that her shirt rose, exposing a sliver of pale skin of her rounded belly. Both of our eyes were drawn to that small bit of flesh, but Anita alone spoke up. "So, who's the da, 'Mione? You've told us about everything else that's happened in the last five months, except for the man in your life."

Her face flushed red and she stared at the floor after tugging down the hem of her t-shirt. "It was a drunken one-off the night I arrived in America. He was experimenting and I was on the rebound. We were too smashed to take precautions, _et voila_… I'm up the duff." She gave the hardwood at her feet a bitter smile. "He's now involved with one of my suitemates. We still see each other often and are friendly enough, but… honestly I'd rather do this on my own. He and Alexei are getting fairly serious and… really, based on his family's views, he's not someone I want intimately in my life."

She never has told us his name. True to her word, she spent most of her remaining break sequestered in the guest room either buried in a book or scribbling what looked like random Latin on spare pieces of parchment. When she would come out for meals or to socialize, Anita couldn't take her eyes off our guest. They sat together comfortably and Hermione answered the numerous questions my wife posed about her pregnancy so far. She was especially amused by the strange cravings, like for watermelon (not easy to find in December) or chips dipped in butterscotch sauce (I couldn't watch her consume that).

Soon enough though, it was time for her to return to Baltimore. It was still safe for her to apparate for another month. After shrinking and pocketing her luggage, Hermione wrapped her arms around me. "Thank you, Sirius. There truly aren't words for how much I appreciate your hospitality." Her embrace with Anita was more emotional for both and I couldn't make out the words whispered between them. After they parted, she gave us a sad smile and with a *pop*, disappeared.

I found out two weeks later the reason for my wife's interest in Hermione's pregnancy. It seemed that despite my foolish brother's death in his late teens and my thinking that I was too old, the Black name would live on for another generation.

Through owls and floo calls, Hermione was invited to spend her spring holiday with us as well. She had managed to keep her pregnancy concealed while attending her training and to make things easier and well-planned, she arranged for a medi-witch to induce her labor. Nita's pleading led to she and I offering to take care of the infant until the younger woman's classes ended in May.

With her free hand on her own rounded stomach, Anita sits next to me cradling Hermione's son. She silently offers him to me to hold. I might as well get used to the sensation now; Nita will need help until Hermione returns from school and it will be my own child in a few short months. Steely-blue eyes gaze up at me and rather quickly I'm wrapped around the smallest finger of the tiny creature in my arms.

The tired medi-witch leaves and Nita struggles to her feet. I follow slowly, moving carefully so as not to jostle the infant. Hermione's sweaty, weary face shines up at us when we enter and I gently place the child in her waiting arms. She swallows with difficulty and her lips quivers as she traces the lines of his face with her fingertips. "Do you have a name for him yet, 'Mione?" Anita asks softly, not wanting to disrupt the calm and quiet bonding between mother and child.

Hermione's head nods, though her eyes never leave the baby. "Gavin. Gavin Rigel Granger."

One name from Camelot, the other from the heavens. If it weren't my family, I'd never put it together. I quietly ask my wife to leave the room and close the door behind her. After casting a silencing charm on the door, I face the girl in the bed. "What do you know, 'Mione?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," she whispers stiltedly, her eyes still looking down.

I pace along her bedside, wondering how to bring it up. She's known about her adoption for several years; I wonder how much, if anything, she knows about her biological family. Before I can speak though, an appalling thought comes to me. Her last year at Hogwarts… ten months in a private dorm with Draco… it was how Lily and James fell in love, so it certainly wouldn't be the first time it happened… the timing would be close… "Hermione, who is Gavin's father?"

"His father's name doesn't matter, Sirius. He's not going to be involved in my son's life. The man I want to have… it's not possible. But this little boy…" she sniffles, "… I can already tell he's going to look just like him…"

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Like his grandfather… and his uncle?"

She nods and crystalline tears drip down her cheeks. "Draco's not Gavin's father. I guess I took so much after the Black family that the Malfoy had to show somewhere. Lucius told me a little less than a year ago. He never told me how he found out… how did you know?"

"I helped Narcissa's elf Pippy arrange your adoption. I knew of Rebecca's distant relation to my family and that she would be able to handle things once your magic came out. When you became friends with Harry and we met, I knew immediately who you were. You're my family, 'Mione, same as Narcissa, Andi, Dora, and Draco. I'm just glad now I can finally show it," I tell her, placing my hand on her shoulder.

She bows her head and closes her eyes. "If things had been different… Merlin, Sirius, I love him so much still. I'm almost certain I only slept with The… other guy just to get over him. It didn't work." When she looks up at me, her eyes are blazing. "Why was it kept from me for so long? How could you, who has known about this since I was born, not let me know?" I'm fairly sure that only the babe in her arms is keeping her from hexing me. Her voice drops to a low hiss. "Do you know what I've had to go through? Ignorance and being kept in the dark my whole life by the single person who had the knowledge resulted in me falling in love with my own fucking brother! If he and I hadn't hidden our relationship, would you have told me then?" She doesn't pause to let me answer her questions. "By the time I found out, I was head over heels and couldn't bear the thought of hurting him. I had to ask Lucius Fucking Malfoy to put me under the Imperius so I could break-up with him without cracking! When Lucius met me at King's Cross after school ended, he kept his end of the deal we made and lifted all the enchantments he had placed on me when he delivered the ticket for my portkey. He's also the one paying my tuition as 'restitution'." She uses her free hand to angrily wipe at her cheeks. "And you tell me that you've known from the start? If this is how you treat 'family', I'm probably better off making a go of things on my own."

Surprisingly, the comment stings and steals my breath like a Crucio to the chest. "'Mione, the secret wasn't kept to hurt you… or Draco. Both he and Narcissa are my family too. Cissa's mind is fragile from the number of times Lucius obliviated her at the start of their marriage and if the knowledge that Draco has an older sister became public, they would lose everything in the Malfoy name. Narcissa came into the marriage with a significant dowry, but it was a pittance compared to the Malfoy fortune. And I know Lucius, better than he probably realizes. He's not just providing you with tuition is he? If I have to guess, I bet he also gave you a well-stocked vault with enough galleons to allow you to follow through on your plan to rent a flat and hire a full-time nanny next term so you can continue your training." Her wide, startled eyes are my answer. "Yes, you are my family and I do care for you as such, but you are not my only family and I have to consider what is best for all involved.

"Besides… why didn't you even consider telling Draco the truth? Do you really think he'd be selfless enough to lose everything, just to acknowledge you as his sister? I have no doubt that he loved you like you say, but I've known the boy since he was born. He's Slytherin through and through and his first, most basic instincts lean toward cunning and selfishness, like the spoiled child he still tends to be. What do you think would hurt more, 'Mione? Thinking that your first love was dumping you for no good reason or learning that a series of cruel circumstances had you fall in love with someone that shared your feelings but couldn't be with you for reasons beyond anyone's control. Draco is not a stupid boy. He would certainly understand."

Her brow furrows. "But Lucius said –"

"Listening to that snake was your first mistake. He's underestimated Draco and what his son is capable of from Day One," I tell her. "Listen Hermione… finish your training. You know you deserve to be there. Let Nita and I watch over Gavin until your testing is done. Use the summer to catch up with friends and set up your new living arrangements in America. Interview prospective nannies. You have the ability and potential to do anything you want. For right now though… I think you should feed your son and get some rest. Spend as much time as you can with him this week. Not that I have experience, but I think leaving him behind may be harder than you anticipate."

She nods silently and nuzzles the infant's blond peach fuzz with her cheek. I quickly turn to leave when she starts to pull apart her dressing gown. After closing the door gratefully behind me, I join my wife on the fireside settee. Anita doesn't seem confused or put out by the secrecy or her exclusion from my conversation with Hermione. She simply reclines against me and rests my palm on her gently undulating stomach. Letting my mind go blank, we both revel in some short-lived peace before Hermione leaves for Baltimore.

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><p><strong>AN: After a lot of consideration, I decided that St. Mungo's is NOT where pregnant witches go to have their babies. Per the Harry Potter Lexicon, there is not any kind of maternity ward because the facility is for "Magical Maladies and Injuries". Nothing about pregnancy other than the person pregnant is magical and it certainly can't be classified (under normal circumstances) as a malady or injury. In my mind, there are privately hired medi-witchmidwives available to attend to the pregnancy and birth in the witch's home... very much like the 1800's and earlier since the Wizarding world seems to look over some of the conveniences of the Muggle world that make living so much more pleasant. Agree or disagree? Let me know thoughts, please.**


	13. Chapter 12

**AN: I have the effing flu, despite getting a shot like a good girl. I feel jipped. Anywho, I'm determined to keep up daily updates, but the nausea and body aches and swollen knuckles make typing out the monster last chapter a little difficult. I'm going to _try_ though. For everyone wanting an update on Draco, here ya go. _Grazie mille_ to RealJena and kjwrit. They are awesome in any language. Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Draco POV<strong>

"That was fine. You can go now." Last night's entertainment came in the form of a tall, blond Durmstrang graduate from Sweden. Aude was very talented with her mouth… so long as she didn't speak. In the early hours of the morning, my pureblood Scandinavian playmate is in danger of overstaying her welcome.

"You no vant me to stay?" she asks in a low voice, purring in a way that most wizards would find alluring; it only makes me cringe.

"No, I don't '_vant_' you to stay. You've served your purpose. I repeat, you can leave now," I say sardonically, turning my back on her offended expression.

"Your _fader_… he promise me –" she starts with a whine.

I cut her off. "Whatever my father promised you is something to take up with him. You're on my time in my space now. I want you to depart from both. It's been _lovely_," I say with a sneer, "but your services are no longer required. To clear up any misunderstandings however, I can say without a doubt that you are **not** in the running to be the next Lady Malfoy. Valiant effort, however. I will only say it once more… leave."

She whimpers like a kicked kneazle and a few seconds later, my door slams shut. I summon Dobby to make sure she leaves the Manor without taking any unauthorized parting gifts. Suitably exhausted, I let my body relax enough for sleep to take me.

Three years ago, I couldn't leave Hogwarts fast enough. Seeing my father proven right – that mudblood girls were only good for one thing – sickened me. As if to further reinforce his point (and keep me suitably distracted), a seemingly never-ending parade of pureblood debutants pranced their way through the Manor halls, all with the goal of gaining my last name and access to the vaults that came with it. As proper witches with breeding, it was unspoken that they would not and could not lose their virginities before their wedding night; that only crossed one item off the list of debaucheries I was encouraged to participate in… and _by my father_ no less! As he so paternally advised, "Mouths, hands, and arses don't have hymens."

A typical evening with one of the show-bred ornaments started with a five-course dinner attended by Lucius (and Mother if she felt well enough). After ingesting the equivalent of a grape and a leaf of lettuce, the witch was given a guided tour of the Manor under the silent ancestral portraits with their judgmental eyes following their steps. Cordials in library followed, and my hopes would rise that one of these pampered princesses would have more than bubbles and candy floss behind their overly made-up faces. My optimism would be dashed every single time. Usually, I would grab my well-read copy of Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration from the end table to thumb through during brandies. In three years, not a single witch had remarked on the tome other than to ask why I was reading now that I was no longer in school. The sheer dimness of the company Father insists on forcing upon me is maddening.

When I finally awaken, only slightly refreshed after a night of physical exertion and mental stagnation, I wrap myself in a lightweight dressing gown and leather slippers before appearing in the sitting room for breakfast. Father is already there, drinking his custom Ceylon-ginger blend of tea. He looks up from his paper with a disappointed raised eyebrow. "Alone for breakfast _again_, Draco? I know you're resistant, but if this continues, your mother and I will be required to find a bride for you, despite your objections."

I pour myself a mug a freshly percolated Brazilian java and drink deeply, letting the warmth and caffeine do their jobs of energizing my still-tired body and mind. "Feel free, Father. Do what you think you must. Any one of the over-indulged prima-donnas you've forced upon me is as good as the next. I would say they're indistinguishable from each other, but each one has a slightly different level of vacancy in their eyes to match their equally vapid countenances. So arrange what you must, but don't be surprised if I die of sheer boredom before providing an heir." Merlin knows that continuing the line is Father's primary concern.

Lucius huffs and tosses his paper aside. "You are being far too picky, son. You have met every British beauty, Estonian enchantress, Sudanese stunner, Guatemalan goddess, and everything in between over the last thirty-six months. Every eligible pureblooded female of marriable age has passed through our foyer and you haven't found even one acceptable? Open your mind a bit, Draco. Marriage does not mean fidelity. Find a sufficient brood-mare to marry for your heir and take a mistress for any other… activities. Not only is it accepted; it's expected."

I choke on my coffee and almost drop my mug. "You… Mother…" I can't complete the thought.

Father shakes his head gravely. "Neither your mother nor I ever had any urge to stray. We were both lucky in our arrangement. It's rare that we were so well matched and ironic that keeping the line 'pure' through those contracts is the reason adultery is so routine in those arranged marriages," he states thoughtfully before his steely eyes narrow to burn into mine. "You never used to be so difficult. Most men your age are happy with a pretty face and a willing body. Only you would be so demanding as to want an active mind as well."

My lip curls into a comfortably familiar sneer. "I was raised to expect perfection, Father. The fact that I would require mental competence along with beauty in my betrothed should come as no surprise, especially to you. YOU are the one that fostered that expectation, after all."

His eyes roll, as if exasperated with a childish tantrum. "Do what you want, Draco. You always do anyway," he says with a tone of defeat and I bow my head to hide my smirk.

Draco: 1, Lucius: 0… on this argument anyway.

Father refills his tea and leans back. "What are your plans for today, seeing as how last night's companion didn't rate an invitation to breakfast?"

I recline as well, comfortable with the change of subject. "Lunch in Diagon Alley with Blaise and Theo. Nott's just finished his training at Wenlock and is returning to work in the Spell Damage Ward at St. Mungo's." I notice the briefest flicker of … anxiety?... in his slate-colored eyes, but let it pass unmentioned.

"Are either of them as finicky about their companions as you are?" he asks drily.

I smirk at his jibe. "Blaise's mother has no problem with her son's bachelorhood as she feels she is far too young to be anyone's grandmother... or mother-in-law... and considering she asks Blaise to call her 'Alexa" rather than 'Mum", probably mother can be added to that list. Theo… well… last I heard, he's been in a serious relationship with a Russian half-blood for a few years now. I expect the lunch may be so we can meet her."

My father chuckles. "Ted must be livid! At least you know what is expected of you. Even resistant, you still conform to the requirements. I'll let you get on with your day. Say hello to your friends for me and congratulate Nott. Completing Wenlock is quite the achievement."

Draining the last of my coffee, I stand and nod to Father, wishing him a good day as well. I go back to my suite to shower and ready myself for lunch with my mates.

Not once in the three years since we left Hogwarts have I laid eyes on Hermione Granger. I've heard her name in passing when visiting Sirius, his wife, and my new little cousin Regulus. Something about her new arrangement working out well. If it had been Potter or one of the (many) Weasleys passing on the information to Sirius, it wouldn't have drawn my attention as much; Sirius giving them the information was what garnered my interest. But I refuse to ask for more details than I can overhear.

As it does every time I think of the former Head Girl, my body instinctively reacts in a way that the superficial socialites that are imposed into my life could only hope to achieve. After adjusting the spray and water temperature, I close my eyes and recall one of my favorite memories.

_"Come on, Drake! This is so amazing! I promise it's worth getting up for," her sweet voice cajoles from the door between the common room and my bed chamber._

_It's Saturday. Our day to sleep in and I'm not a morning person to begin with. "I'll see whatever it is later, Mya. It's too early to be awake," I whine and pull a pillow over my head._

_I feel the bed dip under her weight and soft fingers glide up my arm, over my shoulder, and under the pillow to comb through my hair, lightly scratching my scalp. "I'll make it worth your while Drake… have you ever know me to break a promise?" she says, whispering hotly against my ear and neck, giving me chills._

_I moan and grunt exaggeratedly, putting on a show for my girl while I dress. By the weak light coming in through the windows, it's even earlier than I thought. This better be good…_

It had been. Hermione, with some instructions passed down from Sirius and James to Little Potter, showed me the Room of Requirement that morning and the many wondrous things the room magically provided. We both took a day off from studying to sequester ourselves in the luxurious satin and silk of the larger-than-king-sized bed that sat on a raised platform in the center of the room.

Memories flash in snippets behind my eyelids as my hand moves faster. Mya on her knees before me, making my eyes roll back in my head… wrapping her dainty wrists with silk scarves, feeling her trust in me… the taste of her and how her thighs clenched around my head… the breathy way she cried out when she came…

The way she would look at me as she came down from her high – nothing but pure love in those almost-ebony eyes that seemed as though they could see my soul.

My breathing stutters and stomach tightens as I come, falling back against the stone tiles with weak knees. That particular memory always has that effect. If she hadn't had a meeting in Hogsmeade on Sunday afternoon that she couldn't miss, I have no doubt we would have stayed in our playroom until classes Monday morning.

I clean myself off, bitterness coiling in my chest unexpectedly. I don't know who that meeting had been with or what its purpose was. I just know that the girl I loved never looked at me the same or gave me the affection I'd grown to crave after that bloody lunch.

Wearing my customary all-black attire, I apparate to the alley between Madam Malkin's and the bookstore. Smoothing down any hair that may have gotten mussed in travel, I enter the main street and scan the crowd. The newly opened café next to the ice cream parlor is busy, but my name (or the name of either of my companions) will guarantee an available table.

Blaise, Theo and I arrive at the hostess desk at the same time. The girl, fresh out of Hufflepuff House undoubtedly, blushes scarlet at the sight of us and wordlessly leads us to a secluded corner table. We take our seats and menus, waiting for her to leave. Once our waiter takes our orders and delivers our drinks, we start our conversation.

Theo goes first; he's only been back for short visits over holidays since he left for Wenlock, so there's a lot to catch up on. Mostly he talks of America, his training, and his "Alex" with glossy brown hair and bright blue eyes. I don't say it aloud, but good for him, not letting his father's blood prejudice decide who he can and cannot have a relationship with. We're told that Alex will be arriving from Moscow at the end of the month and we'll meet HIM then.

Oh. Well… _still_ good for him. It's unexpected, but Theo always was a little different. Homosexuality is not nearly as taboo in this society as it is in the Muggle world: it's how you were made and you love who you love – end of story. Blaise and I both take a moment to change Theo's Alexandra to Alexei in our heads and move on.

Blaise runs his fingers through blue-black waves and smirks, telling us of the many Italian women – witches and Muggles both – that he's ruined for other men since spending his winter the villa left to him by his late father. His mother's chocolate coloring is tempered by his paternal Mediterranean blood; my friend's golden café au lait complexion has always drawn girls to him like a moth to a flame. While Theo's looks say "serious and studious" and mine intentionally say "aristocratic and hard to please", Blaise's easy smile, relaxed posture, and bright green eyes scream "insatiable and untamable". He was the consummate male slut during our years at school and hasn't had any desire to change his ways since.

We eat our meals between topics, just catching up with each other and conversing (_not_ gossiping) about mutual acquaintances. Daphne Greengrass married Terrence Higgs right after school and her sister Astoria was being courted by Romeo Montague. Greg and Vince were still single and we all agreed that those two goons would probably stay that way. Blaise chokes on his tea and slaps the table, remembering something he wanted to tell us earlier.

"You'll never guess who I saw leaving Gringott's last week! Granger!" he exclaims after wiping the spittle from his chin.

Thank Merlin I have control over my expressions. After… er… reminiscing this morning, I'm not really sure I want to hear about my secret ex. Theo looks utterly uninterested. "She was at Wenlock with me. I saw her at least once every week or two after she moved out of the dorms. She's working in the Magical Bugs Ward at St. Mungo's. Granger got far more out of the lessons about immunizations, vaccines, and antibiotics than I did. It was a Muggle thing I guess," he explains with a shrug. Blaise and I exchange a look – neither of us understood a word between "lessons" and "Muggle".

Blaise disregards Theo's tangent and continues. "She wasn't alone. She was walking with a witch a few years ahead of us who was acting all googily over the guy Granger was with." I have no right to be bitter. I've moved on; she has every right to do the same.

But I don't want to hear about it.

With a suspicious look, he resumes his story. "The witch was Clearwater, that Ravenclaw that was a prefect when we were first-years, remember? The guy she was making cow eyes at was being carried by Granger… and looked surprisingly like someone I'm eating lunch with…" He trails off with a chuckle and shakes his head. "It must have been a trick of the light, but I didn't know Draco could get any whiter, but he sure as hell just did!" He laughs at my reaction.

"How old?" asks Theo in a strangely raspy voice.

The darker boy ruffles his hair as he thinks. "Dunno," he finally concludes. "Not like I spend any time around the little buggers for a comparison. Er… maybe two years old?" he guesses, sounding less than confidant.

"What does the kid look like?" I ask hoarsely. I refuse to get my hopes up.

Zabini's smirk returns. "Surprised you didn't ask that first. I even went over to say hello to them for a better look when Granger ran into the apothecary." Bloody theatrical fucker. Damn his dramatic pauses. Finally, "Blond curly hair… blue-ish hazel eyes… Clearwater said he was tall for his age. Funny though, Granger didn't say a word. Just turned as white as you when she saw me and rushed to the nearest apparition point after grabbing the kid out of Clearwater's arms. Now let me think… who do we know that's tall and blond with medium-colored eyes? Who… I swear the name's right on the tip of my tongue… who indeed?" he continues to tease, his eyes locked on mine

Theo excuses himself to the restroom, his face the same color as his lettuce. Once he's gone, Blaise leans across the table. "When the hell were you going to tell us you knocked up Granger? The kid has to be yours… or," he says with a malicious glint in his eye, "your father's. Except for the curly hair and the color of the eyes, he looks just like you."

"She never told me," I whisper, still stunned to my core. If Blaise's guess at the age is right, the timing would fit. She hadn't paid attention to my intentionally shoddy spell work during our interludes, hoping to guarantee an heir and a marriage before the choice was taken from me.

I'm done with vapid heiresses. Fuck my father and his bloody prejudices. I have a trust fund of my own and have the qualifications to find a job if I need one. I am going to be a father to my child… and marry his mother… if it's the last thing I do.

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><p>*Canon: Terrance Higgs and a boy with the surname Montegue were older Slytherins. I just thought it would be funny to give Montegue the first name of Romeo. Penelope Clearwater was a 5th year prefect during the class of 98's first year (when she was Percy (eww) Weasley's girlfriend).<p>

*Aude - me indulging my love of the SVM characters again. She's not mine, unfortunately.

**AN: Hope this satisfied the need for some Draco news. Yes, I did a bit of a time skip, but that's because it would have been awfully repetitive and boring otherwise. Please give me thoughts!**


	14. Chapter 13

**AN: Yay! I survived the night to update again. As much as I hate them, this is a bit of a filler chapter, to get where I intended this to go. I still like it though. A little inner look at the mysterious half-Italian Slytherin. _Merci beaucoup_ to RealJena and kjwrit. Awesome, amazing ladies, both of 'em. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Blaise POV<strong>

"Ugh! Leave me alone, damnit! Can't you see I just want to curl up and die?"

I look at my cousin Gia, folded into the fetal position on the bed in my guest room. Her skin has a very unflattering green tone and the whites of her eyes are an ill shade of pink. "That's it. You've been miserable for over a week now. I'm taking you to St. Mungo's." She tries to fight me, but I have five years and eighty pounds on her; it's not hard to bind her and carry her to where we need to go.

With the girl disillusioned and thrown over my shoulder, I make my way cautiously down the Muggle street to the disguised entrance to the hospital. Once I enter, I remove the disillusion charm, but keep her silenced and petrified. The Welcome Witch looks her over, blows a bubble with her gum, and says "Second Floor, magical bugs." Her eyes flick over my shoulder and dismisses me with the call of "Next!"

I carry Gia to the bank of lifts against the wall of the reception area. Pressing "two" once the car doors close, I remove the remaining charms, reminding my cousin that I can recast them quickly should she try to fight again. We are escorted to a screened-off room by a healer trainee who proceeds to take her vitals with a wand wave, recording them with a Rapid-Rite quill. I give him a quick summary of her symptoms, watching the feather fly over the parchment. He rushes off, saying our healer will be in soon. Gia looks up at me with narrowed eyes. "You know I hate you, right?"

I chuckle and kiss her forehead. "No you don't. Everyone loves me."

"Still have that humility you were known for, aye Zabini? It's nice to know some things never change," a voice says drily from behind me.

I turn and can't stop the smirk. In nicely fitting lime green robes, untamed hair in an attempt at a bun, and eyes glittering with intelligence and sarcasm, is one Hermione Granger.

Before either of us can say anything else, my cousin makes an appeal from the bed. "Healer, please. I'm really not sick! I just need some rest."

Granger flicks her wand over Gia and analyzes the results. After a moment, she shakes her head. "Nonsense. It's a good thing your… boyfriend?... brought you in when he did. The next stage after the fever and body aches is facial distortion and boils in some very uncomfortable places," she says frankly before picking up and scanning over the chart left by the trainee.

Under the greenish tone, Gia's olive complexion pales. "Cousin, not boyfriend. Did you say _boils_? What do I have?"

Granger's Rapid-Rite quill is zipping off notes on a levitating pad of lime green parchment, which folds into paper planes by itself and flies out of the room. Paying no attention to the iridescent red feather scratching out notes next to her head, Granger's sharp eyes fix onto the bright blue ones of my cousin. "It's unusual to see cases of the Nogtail Flu outside of Russia. In this country, it's usually brought back by international travelers. This strain is fairly contagious, so," she looks at me, "I'm having the lab create a potion to bolster your immunity. Miss Zabini," she turns again, "the lab is also working on some draughts for you, both to ease your discomfort until the virus weakens as well as to keep your symptoms from progressing. If you'll excuse me, I'll go check on their progress."

Her robes lift as she spins to leave, giving me a very nice look at her legs. Once she's gone from sight, I return my attention to a sheepish Gia. "What the bloody hell were you doing in Russia?"

She winces at my tone. "Nicola Milosivic invited us to her estate near Moscow. There was a music festival there right after classes ended. Mamma gave me permission…"

"There is no way that _Zia_ Vita gave you permission to go all the way to Moscow, but if you insist on sticking to that story, I can always owl her to check…" I smirk when she shakes her head emphatically. "Stupid girl," I say affectionately, "I've pulled every trick you can think of and then some. A mudblood has a better chance of getting sorted into Slytherin that you have of ever getting one over on me, _cuginetta_."

"_So_ nice to be reminded that blood prejudice is still alive and well," Granger drawls scornfully from behind me… again. Damn, she's stealthy. I never wanted her to hear that; it's just a simple phrase I've heard my whole life. She holds out a bright purple vial to me, which I take suspiciously. "Fair warning: it tastes like shite. You might want a chaser ready from the tea room on the Fifth Floor before taking that. Mere water won't get rid of _that_ aftertaste." She reaches into her pocket and turns her stout-colored eyes to my cousin. "Unfortunately, these don't taste any better, but any chaser, even water, would render the potions useless," she says in a much kinder tone than she used with me. As I leave for the lifts, I hear gagging and Italian swearing; I have to stifle my chuckles all the way to the tea room.

While my oolong steeps, I think about my cousin's healer. Ten years after seeing her for the first time, she looks almost nothing like the skinny, frizzy-haired know-it-all that liked nothing more than showing how much smarter she was than the purebloods that shared her classes. Her face has matured since her first year, making the formerly plain features seem delicate and graceful. Naturally her body has grown and changed also. While typically unflattering, her healer's robe highlights a tiny waist and those legs I saw seemed longer than I thought they would be for someone so much shorter than me. Her bust is on the small side, but proportionate to her petite frame. No… Hermione Granger is no longer a common, unsophisticated witch unworthy of a second (or third) look.

Prepared by Gia's extreme reactions, I uncork the vial and sniff the violet potion inside. _Dear Morgana, that's AWFUL_! Smelling like some toxic mix of gurdyroots and bubotuber pus, I take a fortifying breath and toss the drought down my throat, trying to follow it quickly with my tea to wash away the taste which matches the horrific aroma. The tea isn't quite strong enough and I do my own gagging and swearing, though more quietly than my sixteen-year old kin three floors down. I hear a tiny giggle and look around for its source.

After several scans of the tea room and seeing no one, I look lower. A tiny blond boy that I know I've seen before is crouched under a table covering his mouth with his hands. I kneel down to be on his level and smirk. Granger's son… the one that could be Draco's miniature. Now though, able to look closer, while there are similarities, the differences are more noticeable. Without the sun shining on it, the hair is not platinum, but a very light ash with golden tones. While still fair-skinned, he's not porcelain like Granger and Draco; there's warmth to the child's skin that neither of them have, with tiny freckles over the bridge of his nose. But the eyes are what grab me. Not the dark espresso of his mother or the glacial gray of my friend, but a dark blue-green, like stormy ocean water. A unique color that I can't quite place where I've seen it before. But the high cheek bones, slightly pointed chin, and angular jaw under the roundness of childhood are all Draco.

"Gavin! I've told you not to run off like that! You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days! I don't think scaring Nanny Penny like that deserves any ice cream, do you?" The Clearwater witch from a few weeks ago races into the tea room, brow furrowed in displeasure at my tiny companion. His lip quivers and eyes get watery as he rubs a small fist in circles over his chest. The former Ravenclaw's expression lightens minutely but still speaks sternly. "I know you're sorry, Gavin, because I threatened your dessert. Now tell me that you'll never do that again." The child touches his lips with a tiny index finger before bringing the hand down to rest on the other hand, perpendicular to the flat palm. The nanny smiles. "You know what happens if you break a promise, right? It means no more visits to Mummy while she's working." He nods enthusiastically and crawls past me from under the table into the woman's arms. She snuggles him for a moment and turns her attention to me. "Thanks for watching him. When he stays in one place, he's much easier to find. He's far too good at Hide and Seek."

I stand and offer my own smile. "What was he doing with his hands? It was like you were having a conversation with him, but he didn't say a word."

The witch grins and runs her fingers lightly through the toddler's pale curls. "It's sign language. The circles on the chest mean 'I'm sorry'; the other sign means 'promise'. We learned it in America while he was still an infant. He has a huge vocabulary for just turning two back in April, but he doesn't have the physical ability to say everything he wants. With the signs, he's able to communicate without too much frustration. It's _much_ better than the pointing and grunting most toddlers resort to."

I nod in understanding, fascinated. In my childhood, adults didn't attempt communication until the child's speech was clear and articulate. Anything prior to that was to be passed through the house-elves. How interesting to be able to have a full conversation with someone incapable of speech.

After finishing the dregs of my now-cold tea, I head back to the lifts to return to Gia. She likes her summers in London, her winters in Sicily, and spends her school terms in southeastern France at Beauxbatons. Despite the irresponsibility before her visit to me, I hate that she's so ill at the very start of her vacation. I hear someone talking as I approach her room; I wouldn't be Slytherin if I didn't eavesdrop…

"You're going to be weak for a few days while the virus dies. Rest and bland foods will be best: dry toast, weak teas, et cetera. Sleep when you can so your body can heal. This flu is a right bummer, but your cousin did the right thing by bringing you in. And don't make him stun and silence you again until you're back at a hundred percent; it'll only prolong the healing time." Unable to see her, I can still hear the smirk and wink in her cheerful tone of voice. Her bedside manner with my surly teenage cousin is perfect: no technical jargon to confuse her or condescending dumbing-down of the information she needs to know.

I hear steps coming toward the door and step back to avoid a collision. Granger stumbles to a stop in front of me; I grab her arms gently to help her balance. Taking a chance, I rush to speak before she can leave. "Healer Granger, I didn't mean to offend you earlier. I spoke without thinking. Honestly, I don't give one knut about that blood purity nonsense. Can you forgive me?" I ask her honestly. Despite using the slur earlier, I really don't think less of Muggleborns or Muggles in general. When I see uncertainty on her face, I give her a shy grin, release her arms, and rub my fist in a circle on my chest. Her jaw drops. "I am sorry… Hermione."

"How did you… when… I mean… what?" Who knew that such a simple gesture could render her so inarticulate?

"I met Gavin in the tea room with his nanny. She explained how they were having a conversation despite his lack of speech." I leave out the bit about him running off – why get the kid in trouble? "So, do you forgive me?"

She sighs and rolls her eyes. "I suppose. What can it hurt? It's not like our paths will cross all that often," she remarks, starting down the corridor briskly.

Glancing down at her, I match her pace as she speeds down the hall. "I was actually hoping I could take you out for drinks when you get off work."

She stops suddenly again and turns. "You? Blaise Zabini wants to take the Mudblood Know-It-All on a date?"

"Didn't I just say that I don't care about blood status? I've dated Muggles before." Not entirely true – sex and dating aren't exactly the same thing, but po-TAY-to/po-TAH-to. "I like Muggle books… I even have a television and computer at my villa in Italy. It's just a drink or two… what harm can there be in that?"

Biting her lip, she looks up curiously. "None, I guess. Okay. I get off at six… Leaky Cauldron at half-past?"

I shake my head. "I can do better than that dive. How about…" I try to think of somewhere appropriate, "… hmm… how about Jordan's. It's a little café down the street from Gringott's. They have good food too. Maybe we could have dinner as well?"

It's her turn to shake her head. "I'm always home for dinner if I don't work a night shift. Penny is off at eight and I want to spend some time with my son before he goes to bed. I don't get as much time with him as I want with this job. So, I'll agree to a drink or two, just so we can get to know each other better. Let's leave it at that for now."

Nodding, I understand her hesitation, even though I've never dated or "dated" someone with a child before. Chivalrously, I kiss the back of her hand. "Until later then, _bella_. I'll meet you at six-thirty downstairs. _Ciao_."

With flushed cheeks, she heads down the corridor. I smile after her for a moment before returning to collect my cousin, wanting to get her resting and comfortable before I leave to meet Hermione for our first date.

It will be only the first… of many if I have my way. And I always get my way.

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><p><strong>*Canon: <strong>Nogtail - Found in rural areas across Europe, Russia, and America; a Dark Creature (classified as a demon) resembling a piglet, but stunted with narrow black eyes, a thick stubby tail, and long legs. Nogtails curse farms. A nogtail slips into a pigsty and suckles an ordinary pig; the longer it goes undetected, the longer the curse that falls upon the farm. The nogtail is very fast and difficult to catch, but if chased off the farm by a pure white dog it will never return. See the Pest Sub-Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for assistance with nogtail problems (per HP lexicon). **My take on the Wizarding version of Swine Flu.**

**AN: Like I said, this was mainly filler and set-up. Hope you enjoyed. Let me know either way.**


	15. Chapter 14

**AN: First, I want to thank each and every one of you that have read, favorited, and followed this story. It started on a whim back in August of last year. The wonderful reviews that I have received have made the hard work worth it - please keep it up! To answer a question, Gavin IS NOT in any way developmentally delayed. Both of my boys (now 9 and 4) were "sign babies" and were able to effectively communicate that way before they were able to speak. Hermione seems like the kind of mom that would be open to the practice.**

**We also have the long-awaited appearance of Narcissa... it's slightly heartbreaking. And more and more... I love this Hermione. But things are going to start to come to a head... soon. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Lucius POV<strong>

I walk down Diagon Alley feeling lighter than I have in a long time. Narcissa has had a good few weeks with hardly any of her usual confusion and melancholy. She's well enough to indulge in some shopping, something I'm more than happy to provide for her. We part ways after visiting Gringott's, her purse much heavier than when we went in.

Borgin and Burkes supplies much to browse through while my wife buys herself frocks and baubles. After teasing my inner dark side for a few hours, I head back to the main alley to meet Cissa for a late lunch. While I wait at the corner of Diagon and Knockturn, I set eyes on someone I haven't seen in years.

She looks like Andromeda did when I first started courting Narcissa. There are natural differences of course, but the overall similarities are startling. Her dark eyes widen when they meet mine and I see her edge to the side, hiding something behind her skirts. "Miss Granger, you look lovely this afternoon," I tell her with a polite bow of my head.

"Mister Malfoy," she replies shortly, nodding her head quickly before darting her eyes around, looking for an escape.

"I have heard that your healer training was a success. Word in the Board of Directors meetings I attend is that you are making quite the name for yourself in the field of magical bugs. Illnesses that were once a death sentence are now no more than an inconvenience. I always knew you would do great things," I tell her proudly.

Her spine stiffens and eyes narrow. "I think we both know that's a lie… Lucius. In fact, I don't think you have the slightest idea of what I'm _really_ capable of. After all… with my bloodline and intelligence, think of how scary I could be if those characteristics combined with Slytherin cunning, sneakiness, and selfishness." I'd never thought of that and I'm only barely able to hide my shudder. She smirks, seeing through my façade. "I bet you're thanking Merlin and Morgana both, for the first time ever, that I was sorted into Gryffindor."

Yes. _Yes I am_.

Before I can hastily close our conversation and escape her accusatory eyes, a sweet voice calls from behind her, "Andi! Wait!" As graceful as always, Narcissa glides up the sidewalk, loaded down with her purchases, smiling broadly. Wrapping Miss Granger in a too-familiar embrace she says, "I swear, Nymphadora never looks the same. I think Ted might have a metamorphmagus somewhere in his ancestry; goodness knows it doesn't come from our side!"

My wife doesn't notice the other woman gaping speechlessly and I realize that this is likely the first time she's been face-to-face with the woman who gave birth to her. I hear her breath stutter while Narcissa continues to gush. "Last time I saw her she had pink hair down to her waist. I must say, these blond curls are much nicer." Leaning down, she picks up the toddler I hadn't seen. Knowing now what Miss Granger was hiding, I avidly look over the child. The hair is light, but a shade or two darker than my own platinum. The child's skin tone matches that of my wife, but I don't have the slightest idea where the small freckles come from. The tot's eyes are a darker blue and have flecks of green that are missing in Narcissa's. Her pure sapphire orbs are cloudy and lost in the past, seeing her sister and niece.

When the toddler reaches for its mother, I become more grateful to Miss Granger than I can ever imagine being. "Cissy, we must get together again soon. I'm afraid Dora needs her nap and Ted is waiting for us at Flourish and Blotts. Owl me soon, darling." Kissing the air next to my wife's cheek, Miss Granger turns, shoots me a venomous look that I more than deserve, and marches up the sidewalk…

Where she greets a tall, dark man with an embrace and a chaste kiss. The child on her hip struggles to reach the man, who laughs and swings the youngster onto his shoulders. His arm wraps affectionately around her waist and they all disappear into the ice cream parlor.

I turn to Narcissa, concerned despite her eyes clearing of the haze. Only very rarely does she get lost in time, but she's never mistaken a stranger for family. I ease her burden, taking her bags and shrinking them, placing them in my pocket before offering her my arm to take her to lunch. She chatters happily and when we see Miss Granger, her child, and who I now recognize to be my son's Slytherin classmate sharing a sundae, my wife tsks. "Hermione should not be exposing Draco's child to a man like Mister Zabini. He's a notorious letch; she should know better." Cissa giggles at my baffled expression. "Really darling, you don't see it? Besides a few obviously maternal characteristics, that child is clearly a Malfoy. A grandparent knows these things," she states assuredly as we pass the window.

On the way to the restaurant she prattles on about her purchases and the gossip she caught up on in the shops. I nod and murmur when a response is necessary, but my thoughts are in a furor. The contraception spell I placed on Miss Granger was foolproof. I removed it at the same time as I lifted the Imperious – the girl was smart and moral enough to not continue intimate relations with Draco after my revelation to her. It worries me that Cissa identified the toddler as her grandchild – although through the wrong child – by sight alone.

However, I realize that acknowledgments need to be made in my papers. Miss Granger is a Malfoy, as is her child. I resolve to own up to her parentage by making some changes and additions to my will. It's unlikely that my darling wife will outlive me; her mental condition is becoming more physical.

I'm becoming increasingly concerned by my wife's state. For weeks, even months, she'll go day-to-day without a care when suddenly she's sobbing in grief that she can't define. She'll whimper, wrapping her arms around herself, and cry that some part of her is missing. Pippy and I are careful when dosing her with dreamless sleep potion as its addictive qualities are well-known. Every time she wakes up, she's back to her usual lighthearted and carefree self… but no one knows for how long.

I hate that my own actions have caused this… affliction to the woman I love. When I see her weeping in heartache, agonized over a loss she doesn't remember, I have to wonder… _was my fortune worth this_?

I've already started to doubt that _anything_ is worth the price I'm now paying.

**Blaise POV**

I kiss Hermione's frowning lips quickly before entering Florean Fortescue's shop. Her face relaxes and eventually smiles when Gavin struggles to get into my arms. "You know he just likes the view better from up there, right? It's not because he likes you more," she jokes.

Lifting the boy onto my shoulders makes him laugh and squeal in excitement. We join in his exuberant exaltation and I wrap my arm around Hermione before going in.

I've become a different man in the three months since our first date. No longer do I care about being an infamous womanizer, carving notches in my headboard. Not when it would cost me the most amazing woman I've had the privilege of meeting. That first night went better than expected – our familiar shared background led to many comfortable conversations. Only the end of her nanny's shift caused us to part ways when we did.

We spent that first month getting to know each other better, going out for drinks a couple of times a week. I knew she was interested in more when she invited me to her flat to have dinner with her and Gavin. The boy and I clicked almost immediately and Hermione admitted it had been a test of sorts. She wouldn't be with someone her son didn't like.

Three weeks later, she'd been called back to the hospital after her shift: all hands were needed, regardless of specialty, to treat the many victims of a multiple cauldron explosion. With no time to contact Penny, I offered to watch Gavin for her. With a quick kiss of gratitude, she apparated to the hospital.

I was flying blind, but the boy and I did fine with only a few hiccups when I didn't understand his sign language. When he started yawning, I helped him wash up and put on pajamas. I sat by his bedside, reading his selected story, until he was fast asleep.

When Hermione returned home, weary and dirty, I sent her to clean up while I tried my best to resurrect the meal that had been prepared hours ago. She graced me with a real kiss before I left, just making me more infatuated with her.

Regardless of my earlier teasing, I had stopped seeing Draco in Gavin's features, despite the undeniable similarities. I could see Hermione's intellect, her sense of humor and even her sometimes-mercurial emotions. He had none of Draco's selfishness, sense of entitlement, or petulance when he didn't get his way. It was that foul temper that kept me from informing my friend of my new… companion. I was so charmed and captivated by the petite witch that I would have a hard time deciding when he inevitably told me to choose.

However, she and I still hadn't slept together. I hadn't been celibate for more than a month since I lost my virginity at the age of fifteen. Surprisingly, although I _really_ can't wait for it to happen, I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything. Hermione's smiles, kisses, and _trust_ have come to mean more to me that some fleeting physical pleasure with a random slag who truly means nothing.

Despite the sugar of the sundae we share, Gavin's turquoise eyes start to droop and only his mother's catlike reflexes keep the boy from face-planting into the ice cream. She hefts him into her arms and he nestles his head into the crook between her neck and shoulder. We quietly confirm our plans for later after she softly kisses his dozing head. I walk her to the apparition point by Madame Malkin's and after being gifted with my own kiss, she spins, disappearing with a pop. I turn to reenter the alley proper with what I know is a dazed grin…

Only to run into the furious face of one of my best friends.

"Drake!" I exclaim, trying to make my smile less giddy. "How are you today?"

"What. The. Bloody. Hell. Are. You. THINKING?!" he spits out through clenched teeth. "You know Granger is mine!"

I casually lean against the brick wall of the bookstore and cock a skeptical eyebrow. "You sure about that, mate? Because _she_ doesn't seem to know that. Your name hasn't even come up in passing," I inform him, not bothering to hide the gloating in my voice.

I almost laugh when he growls, "She had my fucking child!"

Pretending to ponder, I furrow my brow. "Again, are you sure about that? Granger doesn't seem the type to keep a man interested in fatherhood away from his kid. Anyway, up close, he doesn't really look all that much like you." I roll my eyes sarcastically. "He sure as hell is a lot more mature than how you're acting!"

He pokes me hard in the chest and glares. "You knew I wanted her!"

I shove his hand away and poke him back just as hard. "Wanting and getting aren't the same things, Draco. While you played with your Daddy-approved pureblood princesses, I actually had the balls to ask Hermione out… three months ago. If you wanted her so bloody bad, why haven't you tried to claim her before now?"

His face drains of what little color it has and he only repeats, "You knew I wanted her."

I point to myself in exasperation. "Slytherin, mate! We always look out for ourselves first. Don't even try to deny that you'd do exactly the same if roles were reversed. I'm not giving her up, Draco. Not without her wanting me gone. I'm already half-crazy about her," I admit.

"I love her, damnit!" he yells, shoving me into the wall. "She was never just a shag to me. We got together after Christmas seventh-year and were in a relationship until N.E.W.T.s," he explains, breathing deeply trying to calm himself. "I never wanted to let her go, but she ended it at the end of term. I'm sick of wasting time with the daft bints Father keeps throwing at me as distractions. Hermione is the only one I've ever wanted, Blaise." I've never heard the humility and pleading in his voice like I do in that last statement.

But I'm also a selfish fucker and I'm not willing to give up the first woman to fascinate me for more than a weekend for him. "Then you had your chance. I'm not giving her up, Drake. That's all there is to it." I push him off me and dust myself off. "If you're forcing me to make a choice… I'm choosing her."

Both of us are surprised by that revelation. He slides back on his arrogant Malfoy mask. "I'm not going to make it easy for you. Fuck my father and fuck his prejudice. I will fight for her, Blaise. And I will win."

Smirking, I start to leave the alley. "You'll try, Draco. But you don't have the foggiest clue of who Hermione Granger is _now_. I have that edge and I'll play the most of every advantage I have. Now, I have to get ready for our date tonight. I wish you well, Draco, but this is one fight you're not going to win."

I walk away without another word, surprised that I am picking the petite Muggle-born healer over one of my oldest friends…

And even more amazed that it's a decision I don't regret in the least.

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><p><strong>AN: I forgot to thank RealJena and kjwrit for their beta and prereading assistance. After reading the last chapter, kj said she was looking forward to a "Slytherin pissing match". I hope I did it justice, because I can see these two confronting each other just like this. Let me know your thoughts!<strong>


	16. Chapter 15

**AN: Oh my... I have to say that this chapter is both one of my favorites and one of my least favorites at the same time. But mainly, it's set-up. The next 2 chapters are my very favorite ones. RealJena and kjwrit are amazing at the beta-prereading thing. Of course, I only own Gavin and the non-canon potions and spells. Everything else belongs the the goddess JKR. Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Draco POV<strong>

"That… bloody… _fucker_!" I yell, blasting various animal-shaped topiaries to mulch as I storm through the gardens to the Manor. I throw my coat on the floor for Dobby or one of the other elves to pick up before shouting "Father!" as loud as I can. It echoes through the various corridors and rarely used rooms.

Moments later, he slithers into the foyer with the ease of one who refuses to be rushed. "You bellowed?" he drawls, looking none-too-pleased.

My lip curls with disdain as I look at the man who has done nothing by try to rule my life and make my choices. "I'm done," I tell him.

"What do you mean, 'you're done'? What, pray tell, are you _done_ with?"

I gesture around us with my hand, stopping by pointing at him. "All of this. All your bloody prejudices. Having my life dictated to me. For the past three years, I've done what _you_ wanted, acted how _you_ think is acceptable and what has it gotten me? I'm no closer to finding a wife than I was when I left Hogwarts and you're no closer to getting an heir to carry on your fucking name! If this life of settling, of choosing between lesser evils out of duty, is what it means to be a Malfoy… _I don't want it_."

His voice is threateningly low when he reprimands me. "Watch your tongue, _boy_, or you might find it removed. You know better than to be so profane. Swearing is a means of expression for commoners; it is below you."

"Like that! I can't even express myself without you telling me I'm doing it wrong! Nothing I do is ever going to be good enough for you, _Father_," I say with a sneer, "so I'm going to focus on _my_ happiness and satisfaction first. As for your pride… well, I doubt that will be a consideration at all. Your intolerance, at least in part, lost me the woman I love. I'll be _damned_ if it continues to keep me from her"

More emotions that I can ever remember Lucius expressing flicker through his glacial eyes before his stoic mask slides back into place. "Miss Granger was below you, Draco. The two of you never would have worked."

"Your propaganda is failing you, Father. Name a single one of the purebred slags that you've thrown at me over the past three years that could hold a candle to Hermione. None of them had her intelligence, her courage, her beauty, or her heart." My eyes narrow suddenly. "How did you know who I was talking about?"

Father's mouth opens and closes speechlessly before he clears his throat and tries again. "I saw you," he says quietly and I must be imagining the pink tint in his cheeks.

Malfoys _do not_ blush.

"What do you mean? You saw me… what?"

Again he clears his throat, still looking more embarrassed than I've seen in the past twenty-one years. "I tried to floo you one evening in your dorm. You and Miss Granger were… otherwise occupied."

"You _watched_ us?" I yell, outraged at the breach of privacy. "You're absolutely shameless, Lucius. I _never_ would have pegged you as a voyeur."

"I didn't stay to watch," he explains with flustered exasperation. "As soon as I realized what I was seeing, I left. Regardless, you can and _have_ done better than her," he sneers.

Not possible. Especially seeing as how she has the next Malfoy heir. "_She_ is who I want, Father. You can't stop me from pursuing her."

"Then what of Mister Zabini? The two of them looked rather… _close_ earlier today. Isn't there some code prohibiting the wooing of a friend's significant other? Surely your friendship with Mister Zabini means more than Miss Granger and her bastard."

I see red. "That _bastard_ is my son and the Malfoy heir. I intend to do everything in my power to claim them both and make them Malfoys in name as well as blood. Do whatever you want, Lucius – curse me, disown me – I just don't care anymore. You won't dissuade me. She means more to me than anyone besides Mother. The two of them have been the only people who have cared about _my_ needs and happiness before their own."

He looks conflicted, as if he wants to tell me something, but can't. I roll my eyes at his stammering and leave for my suite to plan.

I meant what I told him – the vaults, the estates, my bloody life – mean nothing if I don't have her by my side. The past several months have been spent covertly watching... mostly outings my son takes with his nanny. The child looks exactly like the Malfoy he is. I need a collaborator; someone to help me strategize. None of my former Slytherin classmates will do as to most of them, she is still The Mudblood Bookworm. Former Gryffindors and Ravenclaws know her value… but hate _me_. Mother would be ideal, but she's in no state of mind to help scheme. I need a quintessential cunning snake, one who personifies the best attributes of Slytherin house...

I can think of only one man.

**Snape POV**

I'm enjoying my retirement in Spinner's End. Despite the awful memories of my childhood, the old house is comfortable since I gutted and refurbished the interior. I have a well-stocked library and a large potions laboratory where I can create and experiment. Surprisingly, Gringott's paid quite well for my modified _Retego Tectus_ potion. They have added it to the numerous safeguards for unclaimed vaults when no will is left. I asked no questions after getting such a vague explanation; with the amount of galleons they were offering, I would have been a fool to demand details.

Sitting back, I sip my tea as my latest experiment simmers. The chime from the floo interrupts my thoughts. I flip the switch to open the channel and am surprised by the face that greets me. "Professor, please let me through. I need your help."

Why is it the Malfoy family feels I am at their beck and call? At least the younger asks respectfully while the father demands as though it is his right. Sighing and resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I tell him, "You're welcome to come through, Draco." After the moment it takes for him to stumble from the flames onto my hearth, I fix my eyes on the boy I haven't seen in more than four years. He is the very image of his father at that same age, with bits of Narcissa's bone structure to soften the angular features. Only morbid curiosity has me asking, "What do you need help with?"

Draco's gray eyes flicker with determination. "I want Hermione Granger," he says plainly. "Father of course has his objections, but I no longer care for his wants or needs. Mya has moved on to another, despite caring for _my_ child. At least... _I'm_ sure the boy is mine, I just need her to admit it."

I don't let the shock show in my expression. Certainly Lucius would have seen to… _preventative_ measures. The boy must be interpreting Miss Granger's recessive Malfoy characteristics as his own. I keep my face inscrutable and say, "I'm not sure what you want from me, Draco. Do you want a love potion… a truth serum? I can provide them if you wish, but you surely know that the effects will not give you what you want in the long term."

Pewter eyes are cold when he replies, "I don't want a love potion; I want her to choose me without something artificial affecting her emotions. But a truth serum… that may be exactly what I need. She will admit to carrying my child and I can convince her that her blood status doesn't matter. She means more to me than… well… _anything_."

He sounds like a bloody Gryffindor.

I sigh and wonder if providing Draco with the means to get the answers he seeks constitutes breaking my silence and ultimately forfeiting my favor from Lucius. After considering it for many minutes, I decide it doesn't matter. I've only ever longed for _one_ thing in the past thirty years… but it was given to another and is not something even the disgustingly full Malfoy vaults could ever purchase.

Taking another moment, I excuse myself to my stocked lab pantry. Scanning over the alphabetically stored vials, my fingers pluck out a small flask of colorless liquid. I return to my guest and hand it over to him. "Three drops only, Draco. Any more than that would be toxic and I know you don't want to kill the girl."

He gazes at the potion as if the answers to his questions float in the libation. "Thank you, Professor," he says quietly… politely… reverently. "I apologize for intruding. I know you value your privacy. Just… thank you again."

The humility in his voice is a surprise. After dealing with his father for more than two decades, I honestly expected the same arrogant superiority from the child raised to be his clone. I startle myself by offering, "If you need anything further, Draco, I will do what I can to help you. I know that you will not take advantage of the offer as Lucius has."

His fair brow furrows in curiosity. "I thought you and Father were friends."

I can't help but scoff. "Lucius would never lower himself to be _friends_ with a half-blood. No… I'm merely someone he uses when none of his pureblooded connections are able to match my brilliance." It sounds like boasting, but I've worked hard to perfect my skills and know I'm capable of accomplishing things few others are able, despite their blood status.

Draco understands his father's bigotry too well and just nods. "Thank you again," he repeats before stepping back into the floo and calling out for St. Mungo's.

With a wave of my wand, I reheat my tea. I do wish the boy luck and hope he's able to get some answers… and hope that he has the fortitude to handle what he learns. His father's deceit from so long ago has the ability to wreck so many current lives.

I hope all involved are strong enough to withstand the inevitable fall-out.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm still working on the monster final chapter. I just can't seem to get motivated. *pout* Any review-type forms of said motivation would be greatly appreciated!<strong>


	17. Chapter 16

**AN: This is one of my favorite chapters, only falling short of the top sport because the next chapter is my very very favorite. Draco is such a Slytherin. RealJena and kjwrit are amazing and without them I would still be languishing on chapter 3 with no idea where to go with this plot bunny that took up residence in my head. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Draco POV<strong>

My Slytherin sneakiness and stealthiness come in handy. Although she apparates home from the second floor of St. Mungo's occasionally, I've had the chance to discover the location of her flat by following her when she walks home after her shift… usually hand-in-hand with Zabini.

During my reconnaissance – _**not**__ stalking_ – I've seen my son more than once. I can tell the child is a mine by sight alone. His Malfoy features are undeniable. Jealousy and bitterness turn my vision red to see _my_ child leap into the arms of the Italian womanizer.

He doesn't have the ability to love either of them the way I do.

After disillusioning myself, I watch Mya and Zabini keep an eye on the boy as he runs around a playground a few blocks from the hospital. I recline against the trunk of a tree and try to think of a way to get Hermione alone with a drink. I've learned that she doesn't take a lunch break, preferring to grab bites here and there between patients, so _that_ isn't an option.

When I try, I realize I can't remember the last time I saw her _alone_. Every time, she's been with a patient, Zabini, the nanny, our son, or some combination. I'm glad that the truth serum my former professor gifted me with is not in danger of expiring any time in the near future.

I start to think it's hopeless when my former friend checks his watch, leans in to kiss my witch's cheek, jogs over to pick the boy up from the bottom of a slide, and, after a quick look around, disapparates with an echoing pop. Mya leans back with closed eyes, stretching tense muscles by raising her arms over her head and rolling her neck. Seeing her – _finally_ – totally alone, I realize this is my chance.

Remaining disillusioned, I silently follow her down the street. A small smile graces her lips and she takes a table at a sidewalk café, taking advantage of the surprisingly warm October afternoon. Mya orders a coffee drink and a muffin then pulls a paperback novel from her pocketbook to read during her wait. I use her distraction to my advantage. I wait by the door for her waitress to deliver my witch's order. Once she takes the first sip and returns her attention to her book, I carefully dose her drink with the prescribed three drops of the potion and slip away from the café.

I drop back into an alley to remove the charm and refresh my appearance. Forcing a casual expression and relaxed gait, I stroll down the sidewalk again, back in the direction of the café. When I start to pass the tables, I feign surprise. "Hermione?" I say, eyes wide with artificial shock.

Her alarm is anything but contrived when she lifts her head. "Draco?" she gasps in a whisper laced with confusion. Clearing her throat, she blinks rapidly. "I mean… how… how are you? It's been a long time."

I nod. "It has been… a few years now. Do you mind if I join you?" I ask, standing behind the chair across from her. She inclines her head in agreement and after I sit, I lean in toward her. "What have you been doing with yourself since Hogwarts?"

She grins and rolls her eyes. "Healer training in America and started at St. Mungo's about five months ago. You?" I tell her of my aimless life of leisure, leaving out the multitude of witches I've been forced to entertain. Her disappointment is evident and I await the inevitable lecture from the driven woman. "Draco, you are capable of so much more! You finished right behind me in N.E.W.T.s! You could be and do anything you want! Don't you dare try to tell me that living in the Manor and doing Lucius' bidding is actually satisfying. I know you better than to believe that."

She's right.

"The other plans I had for life after Hogwarts were abruptly changed without my knowledge or consent. I had to settle for the only other option immediately available to me. I just count myself lucky that Father hasn't contracted me into a marriage… _yet_. He's losing patience with every day that passes without a new Malfoy heir on the horizon," I tell her, watching her face carefully. Mya's delicate features are locked in an expression of utter discomfort and I can't help but smirk. "There's already a Malfoy heir, isn't there, Hermione?" I ask pointedly and smile widely when she nods, despite her efforts not to. I pull the small vial from my pocket and show it to her. Her eyes widen when she recognizes the contents.

"Fuck you, Malfoy. I can't believe you would do this to me," she hisses as she stands, furious. "I'm leaving!"

I grab her arm before she can walk away. "Not so fast, _Granger_. I deserve to know why you've kept my son from me for more than two years."

She sits back down, anger giving way to confusion on her face and in her voice. "You have a son? Who's the mother and how have _I_ kept him from you?"

_That_ isn't the response I expected.

Consternation fills my own speech. "Gavin isn't my son?" I ask while wondering if the potion Snape gave me was as powerful as he'd promised.

"No, he's Theo's," she blurts out before covering her mouth with her hands, eyes wide in disbelief.

"That's. Not. Possible," I growl at her, disregarding the tears gathering at the corners of her dark chocolate eyes.

She nods weakly. "We arrived in Baltimore on the same portkey. After shopping, we got drunk with dinner and it just… happened. He doesn't know Gavin is his… no one does. I'd like to keep it that way."

The girl I love shagged one of my oldest and best friends. If I remember the timing correctly, it couldn't have been more than two weeks after she broke up with me. I narrow my eyes at her resentfully. "Sure didn't take you long to move on. But answer me this: you dumped me, claiming I'd never overcome the prejudice I was raised with, right? So why did you let yourself get up the duff by a guy whose family is darker and even more bigoted than mine?"

A smooth rose colored lip curls up in a snarl. "We. Were. Drunk. And I know about his family and their level of intolerance. It's why I haven't told him that Gavin is his."

Not happy with the subject any longer, I move on. "Why are you with Zabini?"

Her face softens into a grin that crinkles her chestnut eyes. "Gavin adores him. He's smart and treats me well. He gets along with my friends and is understanding of my unpredictable and sometimes overwhelming work schedule. And he has the whole Slytherin bad boy thing going for him while at the same time proving to me time and time again that he doesn't give a damn about my blood status."

I don't think it's possible to feel more hurt or confused. "Do you love him?"

Her voice is small, whispering so I can barely hear, "I don't know."

I glare hard into her coffee-hued eyes when I ask, "Do you still love me?"

She meets my eyes stubbornly before she gives in to the potion, silently closes her eyes, and nods her head.

I knew it.

When I grab her hand, her head snaps up to look at me. "Why can't it be me? Let me be the man _you know_ I can be." I reach across the table to cup her cheek and I can't help but smile when she tilts her head into my touch. "I never stopped loving you, Mya. Every girl Father shoved in front of me was compared to you and not a single one measured up. You're _everything_ I've ever wanted…" I trail off with a sigh, unable to put all the thoughts and feeling in my head into words. "Hermione… let go of Zabini. Let _me_ be the one in your arms. Let _me_ be a father-figure to Gav…" A disturbing thought pushes to the forefront of my mind. "If your son is Theo's, how is there a Malfoy heir? I haven't been with anyone _that way_ since you." Those expressive eyes of her widen in what is clearly fear. "That would mean… Gavin _could_ be mine. I've only seen him from a distance, but you can't deny that he looks like me. How did you lie with the potion, Granger?"

"I'M NOT LYING!" she yells at me, angrily wiping tears from her cheeks and ignorant of the other diners now starting to stare in our direction. After a few deep breaths to calm her temper she says, "Gavin Rigel Granger is the son of Theodore Livius Nott, not Draco Abraxas Malfoy. Lucius made sure of _that_."

"What? What the hell does my father have to do with this?"

She looks down at her lap. "He confronted me when we were at the manor after Easter and cast a long-term contraceptive charm on me. I guess he lifted it at the same time he removed the i-" she explains before choking and coughing, cutting off her words. She tries again, "He cast the i-" with the same gasping result. "I can't say it," she moans quietly, as if to herself.

The red haze starts to cloud my vision again. "Is _he_ the reason you broke up with me? Did he blackmail you… threaten you…?"

She shakes her head to answer no, but I no longer have faith in the so-called "truth serum" meant to give me answers. I'm more confused now than I was before I saw her. Hermione attempts to say something else, but is only able to sputter and wheeze. Her cocoa eyes look at me mournfully as she sips her now-cold drink to soothe her throat. "I think I've been bound from saying anything…" she says hoarsely, "…but that doesn't make any sense because…" As she trails off in thought, I stare at her in anticipation. "Oh hell! Sirius!"

Another man's name is _not_ what I want to hear, "What does my mother's cousin have to do with this?"

"I was able to tell him everything because he already knew! The binding oath only prevents me from telling someone who doesn't know. The damn snake gave me a loophole without even realizing it!" she mutters excitedly. When she finally meets my eyes, they're sparking with emotion. "Drake, there are some spells more powerful than Veritaserum. I want to tell you everything, but I _can't_. However you deserve to know the _whole_ story, including why you and I can _never_ be what we once were. It's only fair so you can move on. Go to Sirius. Tell him to tell you what I revealed to him when Gavin was born. I would tell you if I could but L-" she coughs again, "the _other person_ bound by the vow made sure I wouldn't be able to. Sirius is under no compulsion to stay quiet."

It bothers me that the cousin on the fringes of my family knows more than I do, but Mya's expression seems to beg me for understanding. I stand and nod, not really wanting to accept that the _only_ girl – woman – to have my heart has told me that there is no way to get past the reason she feels we have to be apart.

I return to the alley to apparate to the Manor owlery, where I send Sirius a letter requesting a meeting. He responds that evening, agreeing to lunch together at his home the next day. It takes hours, but I eventually fall into an uneasy sleep. I dream of four years ago, when life was good and I had the girl of my dreams, not just in my arms, but in my bed as well. It almost makes me want to cancel the meal with my cousin; I just know that what he will tell me will taint those few happy memories irreparably.

But I want the truth more.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm <em>STILL<em> trying to finish chapter 20. Hermione is being a bit of a bitch and not telling me what I need to know. Her POV is way harder than I anticipated. Thank you for all the favorites, alerts, and reviews. They really do motivate me. With only two chapters left before that one, I'm in need of all the motivation I can get! Thanks for reading!**


	18. Chapter 17

**AN: So here we have my very favorite chapter. I LOVED writing this one. RealJena and kjwrit are wonderful goddesses that have my eternal thanks. Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Sirius POV<strong>

Anita answers the floo since I'm in charge of getting Regulus to sleep at night. He wraps his chubby arms around a stuffed hippogriff named Buckbeak and closes his dark brown eyes when I turn out the light.

When I return to the den, Nita is sitting comfortably on the floor chatting with the green-tinted head of Hermione. Her eyes shift to me for a brief moment before turning back to my wife. "Anita, can I have a few minutes alone with Sirius?"

Unquestioning trust of me is truly one of my wife's best qualities. Without a bit of suspicion, she gives us each a smile and removes herself to the kitchen, not minding the isolation charm I cast over the room once she's gone. "What can I do for you, little cousin," I ask with a smirk. Only rarely am I able to acknowledge our familial ties.

Her eyes glare into mine and I know this will not be a light-hearted conversation. "Have you heard from Draco today?" she asks.

"We're meeting for lunch tomorrow at his request, yes," I tell her. I get a sinking feeling that he does not just want to update me as to his mother's condition.

She nods. "I asked him to. He followed me to a café this afternoon and dosed me with veritaserum. He'd been convinced that Gavin is his child. Thanks to the potion, he knows now that he isn't."

Since she arrived on our doorstep almost three years ago, homeless and pregnant, never has Hermione divulged the identity of her son's father… to _anyone_. All one could see when looking at the boy was a smudged Malfoy clone. The only differences between the child and his uncle are the warmth of the toddler's skin tone, his _slightly_ darker hair, and his Caribbean-colored eyes. I can't help but be envious that my younger cousin has knowledge of one of the few pieces of information in the wizarding world that I have not been able to learn. Refocusing my attention on Hermione's disembodied green head, I wait for her request.

"Draco asked about the end of our relationship. The potion was compelling me to answer, but I couldn't. I thought back and realized that before he _Imperio_ed me, Lucius bound me from saying…"

I shake my head and interrupt. "No, that can't be right because you told me everything."

"Or you could let me finish my thought, thanks," she says sarcastically with an eye-roll Professor McGonagall would have been proud of. "He bound me with a loophole. I can't say anything to someone who doesn't already know who I really am. Merlin only knows why he included a clause like that in the vow, but it's worked to my advantage. While I was choking on my words – literally – I thought back to what you said after Gavin was born. You were right – Draco is not going to sacrifice all his family has just to publicly recognize me as a Malfoy. But he _does_ need to know the truth. I need two things from you, Sirius," she says with a plea in her usually-confident voice.

I sigh and nod. "You know I'll do anything within reason for you. Name your requests."

Her eyes close and I can see emerald-colored tears course down her cheeks. "Tell him _everything_. From the moment Pippy apparated to you with me until now. _He_ can make the decision of what he wants to do with the knowledge."

I can tell what this appeal is costing her. She's never been able to lose the heartbroken glaze in her eyes when she hears his name. Inclining my head in agreement, I wait for the second part to her request.

"Let me be there. Keep me hidden… but I need to see him."

Again, I agree. I resolve to ask James to borrow his invisibility cloak. It's more reliable than a disillusionment spell in close quarters.

She starts to end the call after we discuss when she should arrive, but a thought suddenly come to her. "He's Slytherin through and through as you said, so he'll probably try to slip you some of the remaining veritaserum. A gesture of good confidence would be to offer to take it openly. Let him know up front that you have no intention of lying to him. Uh… you don't, do you?"

I shake my head and let her know that I'll offer to take the potion. I don't have any doubts that tomorrow will be one of the hardest days of both my cousins' short lives and removing any doubt of my honesty may be a small token comfort. We reconfirm our plans and say our farewells before she pulls away and the flames return to their reddish-orange color.

Dropping the silencing charm, I call the all-clear to my wife. While I trust Anita with my heart, soul, and life, I have not told her of Hermione's relation to me and how it came to be known. It's information she doesn't need burdening her life. I let her know of my meeting with Draco and she offers to take Regulus on an outing to Diagon Alley to give us some privacy. Wrapping my arms around her, I whisper my thanks while plying her neck with nibbles and kisses.

I awaken the next morning to the smell of coffee brewing and hear the sizzle of bacon frying. After pulling on my dressing gown, I head to the kitchen. Leaning against the door jamb, I watch my wife hum and dance as our son claps and cheers. I give them both good morning kisses and settle at the table, grateful for such a lighthearted start to what is sure to be a strained and taxing day. At ten-thirty, Anita makes a large platter of sandwiches for lunch before she and our son apparate to Diagon Alley. My best mate floos in moments later, taking a quick break from his wife's empty-nest coddling to drop off his cloak as I requested. Mere minutes after he floos away, Hermione knocks on my door.

She looks ill as she walks through my foyer. I offer her some of the food, but she quickly declines with a rapid shake of her head. She takes a seat in the den and holds James' silvery cloak over her lap. "Before Draco gets here, I want you to silence me," she says emotionlessly, staring at the floor. "I've had more than three years to accept the fact that I am Lucius Malfoy's daughter and only just recently have I been able to acknowledge his genetics in making me who I am… but it's still emotionally hard. You know how I felt and still shamefully feel about Draco. Do you _really_ think I can handle these revelations – that I'm not even able to tell him myself – without some kind of emotional outburst alerting him to my presence?"

Hermione's disposition is capricious, like the Black side of the family she takes after; Draco on the other hand is aloof and stoic like their father. Finally I nod, agreeing that being silenced while under the cloak would be best if she's sure she doesn't want to be seen.

We both hear the floo activate and in an instant, I cast a _silencio_ as the young witch wraps the shimmery cloth around her, removing her from sight. When Draco steps out of the jade-colored flames… he looks like hell. Dark circles mar his under-eyes, making his fair skin look sallow and his features sharper, more angular. His casual Muggle clothes are rumpled and baggy on his lean frame. "Thanks for seeing me, Sirius. I appreciate any information you're willing to give me," he says monotonously.

I give him a weak grin and offer him a seat at the parlor table while I prepare plates for both of us. After I grab a couple of butterbeers, I place everything on the table. "Your humility is appreciated Draco, but not necessary. You're family. Also, just because I know only too well how the Slytherin mind works… how were you planning on spiking my drink with that potion you're palming?" What little color he has in his face drains; I can't help but chuckle. "Draco, I know what you want to ask me about and I feel you deserve the whole truth. I thought you should have been told years ago, but it wasn't my secret to tell. I would never lie to you about this, cousin, but if it gives you more security in my answers, feel free to give me the veritaserum with my full consent."

He lays his hand on the table and considers the slender vial in his palm. As he removes the stopper he says, "It's not that I don't trust you, but I want complete, unabashed honesty. Facts can sometimes be skewed by opinion. All I want is the truth. I have a feeling that a great many things have been kept from me and I need to know them all."

I nod in agreement with his assessment of the situation and hold out my bottle for him to add the serum to. He seems stunned my by acquiescence as we both silently count the drops. Genial small talk passes the time as we eat and drink, waiting for the potion to take effect. It's obvious when it does.

"Mother has been wanting to see Regulus, but she hasn't been feeling well enough to leave the Manor recently," he says offhandedly.

I can't still my tongue. "It's all your father's fault, that. Bloody bastard should have his wand snapped for what he did to her."

Our eyes lock and I know what he'll ask before he speaks. "What has Father done to Mother? He treats her like a queen."

I sigh, knowing this is going to be hard for him to hear. "Early in their marriage, Lucius obliviated Narcissa at least three times, removing one painful and two inconvenient memories from her mind. In doing so, each time he had to construct false memories to replace the ones he took, as each one spanned a significant amount of time. With almost two and a half years of her life being nothing more than fabrications that she's been spelled to believe, is it any wonder she gets confused easily?"

Draco looks dumbfounded and takes a sip of his drink while he absorbs the information. "What memories did he take from her?" he eventually asks.

I pull from my own drink as a stall. "The first was a little more than ten months into their marriage. Narcissa suffered a still-birth and common practice at the time was a mild memory modification done by a certified healer. This was before learning how important the grieving process is. Lucius, rather than wait for St. Mungo's to send a qualified healer, took it upon himself to reshape her mind to forget the entire pregnancy. While I question his skill, I don't fault him for _that_. Although the grief can be beneficial in the end, the misery of the process can be unbearably agonizing for some."

"So that was the first memory he obliviated… the painful one, right?" I nod and he continues. "So what memories did Mother have that he found 'inconvenient'?"

Despite my urge to answer, I force a question back at him. "What do you know of your grandfather's will?"

He seems to have to search his memory before answering. "His entire estate would be held in trust until the birth of his first grandchild. Upon the birth of a grandson, everything would go to Father," he answers uncertainly.

"And the birth of a grand_daughter_ would turn the entire estate over to your father's cousin, Tiberius Sabina. Lucius would be left with nothing but Narcissa's dowry to live on. While it was by no means insignificant, it was but a trifle when compared to the Malfoy fortune," I summarize.

Being the smart boy he is, Draco connects the dots immediately. He closes his eyes and bows his head. "Oh Merlin, no. No. He would not have done _that_ for a fucking fortune. Not even a bastard like Lucius could be that heartless."

Feeling fortunate that I don't have to give a name to Lucius' crime, I simply nod and pretend not to see the water pool in the corners of my cousin's gray eyes. After taking a few moments to regain control of his emotions and expressions, he clears his throat to speak. "Okay, I can see how Father would find the loss of his family's estate an _aggravation_." His jaw is tight and I can hear his throat clenching as he speaks. "So he obliviated my mother to forget the daughter she carried and gave birth to because her very existence would cost him his fortune. As dark as the man can be, with sometimes questionable morals, I _never_ would have thought him capable of murder."

Grimly I meet his eyes. "It's my understanding that he ordered the elves to 'dispose' of the problem. I doubt he got his hands dirty in the process at all."

He hops to his feet in a fury, hissing swears as he starts pacing. "No fucking wonder Druther is so cold." His roundabout travels take him past the liquor cabinet, where he grabs a full bottle of firewhiskey before sitting again. "I don't care that it's barely afternoon. I need a drink to handle this… probably several." Draco pours three fingers into a water glass and knocks it back. Coughing from the burn, he refills the glass, but leaves it sitting in front of him to sip from. "What was the third memory that Lucius couldn't afford to allow Mother to remember? It can't be any worse than ordering an elf to kill my sister."

At that, I have to pour myself a drink. All I can do in response to my cousin's statement is raise a skeptical eyebrow and slam back my own whiskey.

Draco understands the gesture and again moans at the implication. "_Two_? He murdered two innocent babies… babies that he helped make... just because they dared to be born female? No wonder Mother gets so confused and melancholy. I can't remember the last time I actually liked and respected my father, but I can now – without a doubt – say that I hate the man for what he's done. Not just to my sisters, but he's to blame for Mum being a shell of the woman she _should _be."

At the end of his rant, I take a deep breath. "The second daughter… she wasn't given to Druther. Lucius gave _her_ to Pippy." Draco's wide-eyed scandalized expression tells his disgust; I nod in understanding. "That sweet elf doesn't have it in her to do _real_ harm to anyone. She snuck away with the newborn and apparated to me. I made arrangements for her adoption. She grew up with a distant relative of mine – a squib – and her Muggle husband, far enough away from Wiltshire to make her discovery unlikely. Lucius immediately began plying Narcissa with healing spells, restorative draughts, and fertility potions to help her conceive again as soon as possible. I have no doubts that not allowing her to heal naturally contributed to your premature birth, if not caused it entirely. But Lucius got his son and the keys to his family vaults a little more than eight months later."

He sips on his drink, taking in the fact that one of his sisters is still alive. "Shouldn't that nullify the will? Why does Lucius still live in the lap of luxury with his blood money?"

"One – very few people know this witch's true identity. I am one. If I know your father, Snape knows as well. Lucius also knows who she is and he's told no one but the witch herself. Two – The Sabina family died out when Tiberius ran afoul of a Yeti and left no surviving spouse or legitimate male heir. Lucius could take a full page announcement in the _Prophet_ proclaiming this witch to be his daughter and not a single knut of the Malfoy fortune would be in jeopardy." I'm glad now that I silenced Hermione. I hadn't had a chance to let her know that little piece of information; it was only chance that it came through me after it happened three months ago.

My cousin narrows his glacial eyes at me, looking so much like his father it's disconcerting. "Why won't you say her name, Sirius? Do I not have the right to know the identity of my sister?"

I match his glare in both color and coldness. "Who is to say that you don't already know her?"

That thought hadn't occurred to him, not that I'm surprised considering the inundation of information he's had to process thus far. "Did she attend Hogwarts? She would be a year ahead of me, right?"

I shake my head. "Your year. She was born about three weeks shy of the cut-off date."

He ponders. "Not Slytherin because I've known those girls and their families since infancy. I can't imagine how the child of _my_ parents would end up in a different house though…" His brow furrows in frustration.

Draco is an intelligent boy. I know given enough time, he would be able to figure it out on his own, with just her approximate date of birth to work from. However, I'm working on a tighter schedule than that. With a deep breath, I take the figurative plunge. "Gryffindor."

I see the thoughts cross his face. Not the pureblood Brown or the Patil girl with a twin in Ravenclaw… "NO!" he roars, scrambling back from the table in horror. "NO! Mya is _not_ my sister! It's not possible!"

"Draco, not only is it possible, it's fact. Have you ever looked at her objectively? She is a flawless blend of your mother's and aunts' features with only your father's complexion to alter the perfection." I have to make him believe this new fact of his life. "How do you think 'Mione felt? She had this dropped on her, with no warning, by your father of all people, while in a relationship with you! I can tell you that she was devastated."

"When?" he asks weakly and I know what he want to know.

"About a week before N.E.W.T.s. Lucius managed to get her to agree to have lunch with him and he told her under veritaserum, much like I'm telling you."

The poor boy's confusion is evident. "So when she… No wonder she wasn't the same…" he trails off in thought.

"_That's_ not the only reason why," I tell him, knowing he needs that _whole_ truth. "Your father convinced 'Mione that if you found out the truth, he – and by association, you – would lose everything. Who knows, he may have even been correct. Hermione didn't think she had the ability to break off the relationship without cracking… you know she's absolute shite at lying. Her inspired idea to get around that was to have Lucius put her under the Imperious curse. The obvious personality shift you noticed? Well, _that_ was the reason. From what I was told, they met in London after the train for him to lift the curse and release her from his influence."

Draco's face shows such a myriad of emotions, I couldn't begin to list them. The crests of her cheeks turn a furious scarlet, glaring against his pale skin, as he spits out, "That… that arsehole who calls himself my father… he used an Unforgivable on my girlfriend?!"

"At _her_ insistence. He also paid her Wenlock tuition and gave her the vault that would have been her birthright if you had been born first. Without it, she would have had to drop out of healer training after Gavin was born. I'll be honest… well, not like I have any choice… but I'm surprised the boy's name didn't give you pause. Her rather unique choices in nomenclature for her son are what informed me of her knowledge."

He nods vaguely, still absorbing everything. I can't think of anything else he _needs_ to know, so I ask, "What's going on in your head, Draco? What are you thinking?"

My younger cousin stays silent for several long minutes. "First… I really didn't think that there was anything you could tell me that would convince me that Hermione and I couldn't have a future together." He huffs a bitter chuckle, "Guess I was wrong on that one. But mainly... that Mother's illness is Lucius' fault. Because of his greed, she lost out on raising the daughters I _know_ she wanted. My oldest sister never got to live a full day. If not for Pippy's good heart, the next one would have met the same fate. My _sister_," he chokes on the word, "grew up in a nonmagical home and came to Hogwarts to face the scorn and prejudice of supposedly being Muggleborn. Never mind that her intelligence bested every pureblood she came across. My _sister_ was who convinced me that Lucius had to be wrong in his beliefs of pureblood superiority. _She_ was the one who let me drop the Slytherin Prince pretense that was expected of me and just let me be her Drake. _Everything_ about her… meshed so well with me that it seemed inevitable that we'd end up together. Like we were made for each other…

"…And Lucius' fucking selfishness cost me _everything_ that made life worth living! Mother lost even more! I actually feel sick that he's part of me. I don't… I just…" His jaw tenses before he gives up and drops his head into his hands, shoulders shaking silently.

I take mercy on his masculine pride and leave the room, gesturing with a small nod that the hidden witch should follow me to give Draco some privacy. Among the quiet shelves of the library, she whips the invisibility cloak from her frame. Hermione's cheeks are soaked with tears and her body is racked with silent sobs. I make sure the door is closed and locked before spelling the room with _Muffliato_. Once done, I remove the silencing charm from the grief-stricken girl.

"Oh… oh gods… _why_ did I think it would be better for him to know? I should have just taken Gavin and left the country. Drake would have eventually moved on…" She weeps, stuttering with anguish. "I need… need to tell him… so sorry…" Gasping, before I can think of restraining or talking sense into her, she rushes from the library to the den.

We both catch the final wisps of green flames in the floo and her burnt-umber eyes meet my gray ones. Although neither of us heard him call his destination, we both know that there's only one place he would go.

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><p><strong>AN: So, personal note: my twin nieces are having a birthday party tomorrow that requires a lot of travel. Chances are that I will not be able to update tomorrow. Also, I am <em>still<em> working on chapter 20. Unless motivation kicks me in the ass this pm, there may be a wait for that chapter as well. I HATE that things are interrupting my daily updating schedule, but life is life. I appreciate every single person who has read this little brain nugget and would to hear more thoughts on this chapter.**


	19. Chapter 18

**AN: Six hours in a car with two senior citizens, a 9-year old and a 4-year old. Twin 2-year olds with a Cat in the Hat themed birthday party and a grumpy 5-year old brother who was jealous over the presents. A brother I don't get along with on the best of days. FUN! Anyway... so, I'm _STILL_ working on the last chapter, but as it is now over 6k words and I'm maybe 1/2 done, I'm probably going to split it. It hasn't been beta'd yet because my poor beta has been under the weather. As soon as RealJena gets it back to me when she's better, I'll post. She's the best beta ever. Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Lucius POV<strong>

I sit in my study, appreciating some well-aged firewhiskey, engaged in a glaring match with my father's portrait. He appears so rarely in an effort to avoid my mother's painting whenever possible that I hardly ever get to confront him.

Ever since the chance encounter with Miss Granger in Diagon Alley a couple of weeks ago, Narcissa has become more depressed and withdrawn than usual and for longer periods of time. My wife won't allow anyone but her devoted elf to keep her company. While I can only blame myself for casting the spells that have caused Narcissa's impairment, I feel the majority of the fault lies with the dead man scowling down at me from the canvas framed above my desk.

"Has Draco at least found a suitable wife?" he asks me in the same haughty tone that grated my nerves when he was alive. "Or will that be a task that you will take care of for him? He certainly hasn't proven himself to be motivated. Surely the Parkinson and Carrow lines are still pure; I'm positive either of their daughters would be proud to carry the Malfoy heir."

I take a long pull from my glass and try to keep the disgust from my face. "Actually Father, we're allowing Draco to choose his own bride. He's made acquaintances with many pureblood beauties from all over the world. He's taking his time narrowing his favorites down to the one who will best grow and strengthen the Malfoy line."

Father's painted mouth lifts in a pleased smirk. "It's a shame that the British lines have been so tainted by inbreeding; perhaps it's a good thing he's expanding his horizons. As long as his wife is pure both in blood and in virtue, she will honor the Malfoy name and her husband by bearing many children. I don't have to tell you _again_ how disappointed I was to learn that your wife would only increase our family by one."

I roll my eyes. "Not again, Father. Besides, it's not as though _you_ left behind any legitimate children other than me. What good is breeding a passel of brats that aren't even allowed to take your name? Mother would have happily given you more children had you not sullied yourself by whoring around with half-bloods and Muggles." It's the first time I've thrown my knowledge of his adultery in his face so blatantly.

Surprisingly, he laughs. "Oh please, Lucius. Don't tell me that Brielle cried to you about my dalliances. I suppose she never mentioned the reasons she so enthusiastically and avidly attended your Quidditch games. She had a liking for the Ravenclaw seeker and two of the Gryffindor chasers. And those are just three of the ones I was aware of. No… spare me your brooding of how your mother's existence was bitter and lonely with such a philandering spouse when _she_ was more adulterous than I. _I_ never had sweaty, illicit liaisons with your schoolmates in the team locker rooms. My paramours were fewer in number and more… age appropriate. Besides, after you were born, Brielle informed me that she had done her contracted duty by bearing a Malfoy son and had no desire to repeat the process."

I do all I can to mask my shock. Mother _had_ cried to me many times of her sorrow over Father's affairs. Although I had never seen evidence of her infidelity, I have no reason to doubt the portrait of the man smirking down at me. I tell him, "Regardless, Narcissa had the desire for more children, but not the ability. Draco's birth was hard on her. Despite trying many times, no other children were to be."

My father sighs and settles himself more comfortably in his regal, painted chair. "If you were able to only have the one child, at least it was a male to carry on the name. A daughter would have…"

I interrupt his impending sermon with a growl. "… would have put the Malfoy fortune into the Sabina vaults. I read your will many times, Father. I did what I must to ensure that the wealth of generations stayed where it has been for centuries."

His sterling eyes blaze down at me from the painting. "The only way the Sabina family would get their unworthy hands on _anything_ in the Malfoy name would be if **no** child had been born before your death. The vaults can only be accessed by a blood-born Malfoy – my father, myself, you, my sister, her child, Draco. Spouses that marry into the line cannot inherit. Had she not died before your birth, my sister Laudine would have been the next to inherit. Her son's name was listed as a default.

I try to choke back my disbelief and open the safe hidden behind his portrait to retrieve a copy of his will. "No. I read over it hundreds of times. The wording clearly states that the first-born child had to be male or the vaults would pass on to Tiberius Sabina. I remember searching for loopholes that never appeared." Withdrawing the document, I flip to the well-worn page with the codicil, getting a bit of childish pleasure from proving the Great Abraxas wrong.

"Hold those up; let me see them closer," he demands, looking very irritated. He scans over the pages I show him, turning the pages when ordered. On the page with the offensive clause, Father's lip curls in revulsion. "Tell me that you replaced that ignoramus Trimble as the family solicitor. Look at the bottom of that single page. _Those_ are your grandfather's initials – Accolon Gawain Malfoy. Look at the other pages. Do you see the difference?"

Actually, there is very little difference between the AGM of my grandfather and the ACM of the man in the painting. I wouldn't have seen there was a difference if it hadn't been pointed out. "You mean to tell me that a girl child would not have forfeited the family vaults to the Sabinas?" I feel bile rise in my throat.

"Of course not!" he scoffs. "Daughters have their value, just in a different way than sons. Men carry the family name, but the women carry the next generation to life. If there were no daughters, who would the sons marry? _Muggles?_" Father looks thoughtful for a moment. "Your sister Adelinde could not be named in the will, but I made sure to provide well for her before my death. Despite her Muggle mother, half her blood _is_ Malfoy and as such, I contributed support for her. I did from her birth, but it wasn't something I could announce from the rooftops because of your mother."

Why am I only learning these things _now_? "So if Draco had not been an only child… if he'd had sisters born before him…?"

Abraxas shrugs nonchalantly. "Draco would receive the largest inheritance, including the Manor, upon your death as would be his first-born male right. Any daughters or younger brothers would split the remainder of the estate evenly between them. When you pass, it will be Draco's responsibility to provide for his mother. That obligation will always fall to the eldest male or oldest daughter if there are no male heirs." I know that. That tradition has been pureblood doctrine for eons. "Daughters have the responsibility of remaining chaste until their wedding night, marrying into beneficial pureblood families, providing the Malfoy line with new blood, fresh allies, and strong heirs. I would never withhold an inheritance from _my_ descendants because of their sex or order of birth. I made sure to do away with that damned codicil when preparing my estate and I made sure my father knew about it. I can only image the amount of gold that changed hands to have that single page added to the final document after my death.

I collapse into the chair at my desk, stunned. All that I had done, all the immoral, self-serving deeds had been for _nothing_. My wife's sanity holds on by a thread… one daughter dead on my orders, the other despising me for my mere existence… a son who cannot give up on the only woman to claim his heart who by cruel coincidence happens to be his own sister. So many mistakes I've made… so many lives ruined. I can only hope I'm forgiven beyond the veil; I don't have the courage to apologize for the many wrongs I've committed in the name of "family". Weakly, I sink my head to rest on the desktop until I hear thundering footsteps echo down the marble hall.

**Draco POV**

I made a brief stop in Diagon Alley before returning home to the Manor after leaving Sirius' home. The revelations I've learned in the past 2 days have rocked me to my core.

Without hesitation, I head straight to Father's study after apparating into the foyer following my spur-of-the-moment errand. To my surprise, my cold, dispassionate grandfather is looking down from his portrait at the bowed head of Fath… of _Lucius_... with something that almost looks like pity. I clear my throat to call attention to my arrival.

"Draco, my boy! I haven't seen you in too many years! You've grown into a fine young man," Abraxas crows from his canvas with a proud smirk on his face. Lucius raises his head and looks at me warily.

As he should.

"We weren't expecting you until later, son. Your mother is having one of her bad days and Pippy is under orders not to let me see her. Perhaps you'll have better luck," he states with feigned indifference. It's obvious that the strain of dealing with mother's mental desolation is starting to take its toll on him.

He has _no one_ to blame but himself.

I reach into my pocket and enlarge my first purchase with my wand. A large bouquet of pink hydrangeas and violet orchids fills the smallish room with sweet perfume. "I thought these might brighten up her suite, maybe make her smile for a moment. I know they're her favorites," I say, faking a bright smile.

Lucius gives me a ghost of a grin. "They are," he agrees. "Anything that makes Cissa smile these days… they're few and far between. I think her favorite flowers from her darling son may be exactly what she needs right now."

As I pretend to leave the study, I enlarge my other shrunken purchase and turn back to face the two blonde men. "Perhaps first you could tell me where to lay these so I can pay my respects?"

Lucius started at the wreath of pale pink carnations and pure white roses apprehensively. His father, however, is not shy in the least with his curiosity. "Respects to whom, boy? No one I can think of has passed on recently."

Glaring at the man I now refuse to call "Father", I answer, "Unfortunately Grandfather, my sister was buried more than two decades ago without a headstone… without recognition… without a _name_ on your son's orders. My oldest sister, that is. My other sister managed to live despite Lucius' orders to the contrary."

I turn to Lucius and say, "Thank Merlin she was given to Pippy instead of that heartless little gnome that follows you around." He seems to have stopped breathing. Interesting. "Your greed… your selfishness… your overwhelming disregard for everyone except _you_… you're feeling all of it coming down on you, aren't you? Your scheming almost had your daughter becoming your daughter-in-law, did you know? Can't make the _noble_ Malfoy line much purer than that, can you? Of course, Mother is near mad because of your many clumsy memory charms, but what's a little mental illness?"

I look up at the appalled portrait above the desk. "Who would have thought that a single page in your will would have caused a murder, an attempted murder, dementia, and incest?" Mockingly, I clap my hands. "Bravo, Grandfather. I don't think I've ever been more proud to be a part of the _regal_ Malfoy line."

The sarcastic sneer falls off my face and I glare – at both the living man and the painted one – in contempt before deciding to visit my mother. Even with her sickness and confusion, her very essence is pure goodness and light. With the foulest scowl I can muster, I turn to leave.

I stumble to an instant stop and the only thing I can focus on is Mother's blanched and stricken face. She's obviously overheard at least part of the argument. She wouldn't be a Slytherin if she didn't eavesdrop given the chance. Her ultramarine eyes blaze at the frozen figure sitting at his desk behind me, but her voice is deceptively quiet. "Are you going to _obliviate_ me again, Lucius? Oh, but why stop there, Love? _Imperio_ me to get on my knees before you, where you obviously feel I belong. Drug me with potions and tonics until I'm nothing more than a puppet you pull out and dress up for formal occasions. If you can so callously kill _our_ daughter for your bloody inheritance, why would you _ever_ treat me any better?"

Elegant as always, she steps past me as though she doesn't see me and stands before the man she married. "I know I'm not well and now I know why. Every time I would cry to you, wanting to know where this hollow, incomplete feeling inside of me came from, you'd simply pat my hand and call Pippy to take me to bed." He voice becomes stronger as she confronts him. "I'm _not_ a child to be humored and drugged to sleep, Lucius! I deserve better from a man who vowed to honor and respect me… a man who swore he loved me." Lucius sputters and coughs, much like Mya did when trying to speak over the binding spell. His mouth opens and closes soundlessly and his eyes begin to water. Abraxas looks like he wants to say something until Mother's fiery eyes focus on him. "Stay quiet you, or it's into the fireplace, understand?" His silence states clearly that he does and Mother turns her attention back to her husband.

"Did you really think me so shallow that I only agreed to complete the marriage contract because of your _vaults_? Do you think ANY number of galleons can fill the hole in a witch's heart after carrying a child right below it? Knowing that the baby created in love can feel and hear every beat?" A look of pure brutality shadows her exquisite face and she breathes a bitter chuckle. "You thought a charm and some false memories would fill that hole permanently? It _hurt_, Lucius… those gaping wounds in my soul… it was torture worse than the strongest _crucio_. On top of everything – almost worse than murdering **our** daughter for your bloody inheritance – the memory spells you cast on me only worked on my mind, _Love_. To feel that emptiness stretch and grow over time, tormenting me with an indescribable pain and to not know _why_… as much as I love you, Lucius, I want you to have a taste of the agony I've lived with for the past twenty-one years." Her eyes narrow as she advances on his wandless form. "It's only fair, really. You caused me years of pain for your greed. Now my longing for the child you took from me will cause yours."

I'm stuck, rooted to the ground, as Mum lifts her aspen wand and aims it at her husband's chest. The pain flashing in her eyes sends chills down my spine but Lucius simply meets her wrathful glare with meek, liquid silver eyes. _Never_ have I seen the man more humbled. He doesn't blink or cut his eyes away, but steels himself to accept his penance.

Neither of their expressions change, but Mother's eyes well with unshed tears as she whispers, "_Luctus transferre._" The yellow jet of the spell hits home and Lucius sinks to his knees, feeling the pain, loss, and confusion the Mum has been battling for more than two decades.

Ever aloof and dignified, he doesn't cry out or even whimper as more than twenty years of suffering hits him at once. The tension in his face shows that it's a struggle, but he succeeds. Once Mother feels he's endured enough, she lowers her wand and awaits his reaction.

I think I may be just as curious as she is.

Lucius closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths to regain his composure. Slowly he stands and turns to Mum with his head bowed. "My love, there is no way that I can truly atone or repent for the things that I've done. I can only say that the young man that I _was_ genuinely thought that his actions at the time were the best for his family. It wasn't until many years later that I started to feel the error of my decisions. Darling, please forgive me for the hurt my faulty judgment has caused you.

For a brief moment, it looks as though Mother will accept her husband's apology… then Abraxas feels that he's held his peace long enough. "Merlin's beard, Lucius! Malfoys _do not_ beg! Our wives must accept our decisions without question. I learned that that hard way with Brielle. A Malfoy man's word is law. You must make your wife understand that and _know her place_," he sneers, narrowing his icy eyes at Mum.

Wrong move, Grandfather.

There is no stopping it. Extreme emotions can make even the most controlled magic unstable and Mother hasn't been totally balanced or rational in a long time. Grandfather's taunts about his daughter-in-law's failure as a Malfoy wife find her breaking point. Wild eruptions of power burst from her in uncontrolled waves. Glass shatters, books fly from their shelves, and sturdy, heavy objects fly through the air as if weightless. I hear Lucius trying to calm her when an intense surge pulses through the study. Right before slamming into one of the solid mahogany bookshelves, I hear a horrified voice scream my name, but impact with the hard wood knocks me unconscious.

As I come to, I feel cold wetness stream down my face. When I open my eyes, I can't help but wince at the ache in my head. Soft hands cradle something like ice to the back of my head and smooth over my brow. Slowly the sounds of the study start to become clearer.

A slender arm wraps around my back as I start to sit up. Mother lies on the floor unconscious; it takes a moment, but I realize it's Sirius tending to her. Lucius is also on the ground, but I have no idea why James Potter would be standing over him cautiously. "Er… 'Mione… I think I need you over here," Potter calls anxiously. A slim vial of shimmery pink potion is placed in my hand, temporarily drawing my attention to the svelte woman supporting me.

"It's a draught of peace infused with a mild pain potion, my own blend. Take it. You'll feel better in a few minutes and I'll explain things then," Hermione says before kneeling next to Lucius' prone form, waving her wand in intricate patterns over him.

I tip the flask into my mouth. The medicinal taste of the pain potion is overpowered by the lavender and chamomile of the peace draught. As soon as the last drop crosses my tongue, I feel my body relax and the headache disappears.

Sirius is murmuring quietly to Mother, who has regained consciousness, and smoothing her hair back from her forehead. Hermione is still stooped next to Potter, rapidly reciting spells and using her wand in ways I am unfamiliar with. Standing slowly, making sure I have my balance, I check on Mum first.

"Siri… I couldn't help it! He just made me so mad… I lost control. I haven't done that since we were children. And Draco… tell me I didn't hurt my son…"

I take the hand that Sirius isn't holding. "I'm okay, Mum. It would take more than a bump to the head to take me out. You know that. Are _you_ okay?"

The tears that pooled earlier spill down her cheeks. "I just don't understand how he could do it. For him to claim that family is everything and then to…" she trails off with a heartbroken sob. "And for _money_! Our daughter… your sister… sacrificed for the almighty galleon. I only heard part of your confrontation with him but…"

"Lady Malfoy," a soft voice chimes from behind me hesitantly. "I think you'll find that Lord Malfoy didn't end _both_ of your daughters." Mum's eyes widen and she mouths, "Two?" Hermione smiles and nods. "Both you and I owe Pippy a debt of thanks for her courage so many years ago."

Mother's tears slow to a stop as the woman I love sits on the floor next to me. "Miss Granger, has anyone ever told you how much you resemble my sister Andromeda?" Mya gives her a sad grin and nods. "But your eyes," she continues, "they're so dark… almost black like coffee…" Mum turns to me. "Her eyes are just like Bellatrix's, aren't they?" I nod also, remembering that that was one of the first things I noticed about her. Cerulean eyes swing back and forth between Hermione and me. "Both of you have the same porcelain-pale complexion like…" She turns her head to the motionless body still prostrate on the floor.

Sirius leans down to gently kiss Mother's forehead. "It's alright, Cissy. Pippy saved her as a baby. You still have one of your daughters. This isn't a dream or your imagination playing tricks on you."

Mother gathers the strength to sit up on her own. Cupping Hermione's cheeks in her hands, she studies her daughter's face silently for several long minutes. Finally, in a soft, awestruck voice, she whispers, "Circe, but you _are_ a Black, aren't you? Siri, do you see it as clearly as I do?"

Quietly, I step away and let my mother and sister get to know each other. Potter is still hovering near my mother's husband and I realize that he's the only one who hasn't moved since I came to. Looking up, it seems as though Abraxas has left his frame for the first time I can remember when Grandmother isn't around. I don't know if it's from fear, anger, or disgust. When I get closer to Lucius, I can see the golden spike of his rare Romanian Longhorn namesake protruding from the center of his chest.

Perhaps Grandfather left his portrait in grief.

Sirius joins Potter and the three of us look down in silence. Lucius' gray eyes, so prominent in the pureblood lines he championed, are blank and cold. I can't look away from the man I once idolized, confused by the hollow feeling in my chest. My cousin puts a comforting arm around my shoulder. "I don't know what to say. It's no secret that I didn't like your father, but I never wished him _dead_. Just maimed or seriously injured," he quips, but I know he speaks nothing but the truth. "But look at _her_," he says and nods his head in the direction of Mother and Mya. The two women are huddled close together. Mum keeps running her fingers over her new-found daughter's face with a dreamy smile, almost in disbelief. "Can you remember the last time she looked so happy and _at peace_? I know it's been years for me." He's right – the faint tension lines at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth have almost completely smoothed out.

"Look… nothing I said to you earlier was meant to hurt you or make you hate your father. Yes, he did some things that straddle the border between right and wrong and some things so far over the line as to be called dark or evil. But he was a part of you and helped you become the man you are. Although his actions were questionable, no one could deny that he loved your mother more than almost anything. Don't waste your time hating him, Draco. As twisted as his morals could be and as selfish as he absolutely was, everything he did was ultimately for her… and for _you_." It's bizarre to hear Lucius referred to in the past-tense. I _do_ know that he loved me, even if it was rarely, if ever, verbalized. And he adored my mother with a passion rarely seen in pureblood (read: arranged) marriages.

Potter pulls Sirius to the side to say that since he isn't needed, he's going to go. After I left Sirius' house in a fury, my cousin had doubts that he and Mya would be able to handle all three of us. What was Mya doing with him anyway? I tap her on the shoulder and give my mother an apologetic look before leading my witch into the hall for some privacy.

It turns out I don't even have to ask her. She looks up at me and explains, "I needed to be there. I asked Sirius to hide me while he told you the story. I hoped that seeing your reaction to our _real_ relationship would help both of us move on… but three and a half years later, you're still in love with me, aren't you?

I never could lie to her and this is no exception. "Nothing's changed, Mya. Even when my heart was broken and I wanted nothing more than to hate you, I still loved you. With every insipid pureblood wife-in-training that crossed my threshold, I only longed for you more. _You_ are my ideal witch, Hermione… my first and _only_ love. Yes, I'm still in love with you. And you're still in love with me."

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "But I'm not, Draco."

My brow furrows in confusion. "You said yesterday – _under veritaserum_ – that you still love me. Don't try to lie about that now."

Mya heaves a deep sigh. "Drake, you were my first boyfriend. My first lover… my first heartbreak. You're the only boy – man – I've been in love with. But I've forced myself to move on. I have to. You're. My. **Brother**. I've had a few years to accept it, even if it disappoints me. While I _do_ love you for all the milestones in my life that I share with you, Drake… I'm not _in_ love with you. I can't be."

I pace away from her. Part of me wants her to feel as broken as I do, but then I remember she's already had years to deal with this. My thoughts go to my poor mother who is only now greeting Hermione like her long-lost daughter… which she actually is. And Lucius…

My… _our_ father is dead. By my… _our_ mother's magic. Sirius is going to send an owl to the Ministry, alerting the Bureau of Magical Law Enforcement to the circumstances of his death as a witness to the accidental surge. As Mother is already unstable at _best_, what is this going to do to her?

When I reenter the study, there is a sheet over Lucius' body. Sirius is at the desk with a quill and parchment, drafting his letter to the hit-wizards. Mum sits as close as she possibly can to Mya, stroking her arm or twirling a curl of her hair, marveling at her new daughter.

I know my mother loves me, but I can't pretend that it doesn't hurt, seeing her fascination with Hermione. With Lucius no longer able to force me into a marriage I don't want, maybe I'll travel a bit. Use this chance to get away from Great Britain and see the world…

And maybe learn to move on in more ways than one.

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><p><strong>AN: I made up several things here. Brielle and the fact that Narcissa has an aspen wand are figments of my imagination. So is <em>Luctus transferre<em>: Latin for Transfer Grief (or mourning). Yeah, remember that alligator Severus saw with the potion? Here she is. Honestly, her accidental magic was inspired by what happened to Ariana Dumbledore except it pulsed outward instead of in. This was one of the harder chapters to write. I would LOVE to hear any thoughts on how I did.**


	20. Chapter 19

**AN: This is the first half of the last chapter. I've been working my nail-bitten fingers to the bone trying to get the darn thing finished. Is it weird that I have an easier time writing from a male POV? Eh... who knows. RealJena is a goddess for taking time from her sick baby to make sure my words are okay and good enough to submit. Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Hermione POV<strong>

I sit in the plush office of Dante Trimble with Narcissa holding my hand. Draco leans against the doorframe emotionlessly, not pleased with my presence.

After Lucius' death was confirmed by the MLE healers and Narcissa was cleared of any fault, I asked Draco for his assistance in planning his – _our_ – father's funeral and interment into the Malfoy family mausoleum. Only because Narcissa wasn't in any condition to help did he agree. It was done grudgingly and as separately as possible.

I did get immense pleasure in how my mother and Gavin took to each other after they met. When the Grangers discovered my pregnancy and threw me out of their home, it was with the knowledge that I wouldn't be welcomed back. For my son to have even a fledgling relationship with his biological grandmother was more than I had hoped for.

When the tomb closed after the service, I was shocked to have the elderly family solicitor request my presence at the reading of Lucius' will. Narcissa smiled at me sadly and said, "He'll make things right, like he should have all along."

The bald man hobbles to the comfortable chair behind his desk and withdraws a large file. "There are four inheritors of the Malfoy Estate. Where is," he looks down at the document, "Gavin Granger?"

My eyes go wide. "He's with his nanny, probably sleeping. He's not yet three years old. I'm his mother."

The solicitor nods his head and flips through the papers. When he opens his mouth, Draco holds out his hand to stop the man from reading. "First, I want confirmation that _only_ the papers my father signed are there. I don't want to have any slips of my great-grandfather's will being hidden between forms. On each page, I _will_ confirm my father's magical signature. Merlin help you if you try to pass off a page as his that actually belonged to one of my demented ancestors… especially since that little stunt with Abraxas' will has you in danger of losing representation of the Malfoy family _permanently_." The geriatric wizard pales to a lifeless gray before removing a page less-than-discreetly. Draco nods with a bitter smirk. "I thought so. Carry on."

After some nervous throat-clearing, the elderly man begins. "I, Lucius Accolon Malfoy, being of sound body and untarnished mind, upon my death do bequeath the following:

"To my only son, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, I leave the deed to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire and all the contents thereof, including deeds to the other properties in the Malfoy name. I also leave him the key to the main vault in the Malfoy name on the lowest level of London's branch of Gringott's. Before the latest interest accrual, the balance of said vault was listed at five hundred ninety-seven million, four hundred thirty-three thousand, forty-two galleons and change. The sole condition of this inheritance is to provide the endowments for my loving widow, Narcissa Black Malfoy, if she happens to outlive me.

"To Narcissa, I return the Black family heirlooms and jewelry given to me as part of her dowry to pass on as she sees fit. The conditions for our son's inheritance are: that his mother be granted permanent residency at Malfoy Manor until her death or until she makes to decision to move. Narcissa will also be given an allowance of one million galleons per year for her sole use. Draco may choose the method of payment: an annuity paid in the first month of each year or a monthly stipend. In addition, all her basic needs and living expenses – food, home maintenance, health care, and the like – will be covered from the main family vault until Narcissa's death. If her death precedes mine, the Black Family heirlooms are to be split equally between Narcissa's children.

"To my daughter, Hermione Jane Granger, I bestow, as her right as a Malfoy by blood, the vault in the Malfoy name on the eighth level of the London branch of Gringott's. Before interest accruals, the last confirmed balance was recorded at fifty million, seven hundred eighty-three thousand, six hundred and twenty-one galleons and change. There are no conditions set for my daughter to claim her inheritance. Her strength, intelligence, and magical power prove her to be a Malfoy, even without her legitimate name." Although I'm not surprised in the least that Lucius feels his blood deserves the credit for the skills and accomplishments that accompany my name, I'm taken aback by the small part of me that delights in the fact that my "dad" was proud of me.

The attorney gives me a haughty smirk while Draco verifies the initials at the bottom of the parchment with a wave of Lucius' elm wand. Nodding his approval, my brother steps back and allows Trimble to continue. Restoring his somber expression, he reads, "To my grandson, Gavin Rigel Granger, I leave the second level Malfoy vault at Gringott's London Branch with a flat sum of one millions galleons. I also leave him his great-grandmother's estate in Martinique. I leave these in trust to be managed by his mother until he is of legal age."

I am astonished that Lucius would not only include my son in his will, but to be so generous. It would be a lie to say I'm not interested in learning more about my paternal ancestors. From what Narcissa has told me and what I've overheard from the snarky portraits around the Manor, they sound like a cast of characters in some outlandish soap opera or romance novel. I look forward to exploring and researching my grandmother Brielle's birthplace.

Trimble goes on to outline trusts for future heirs that have yet to be conceived and the signature is once again verified by the elm wand. Once concluded, Draco, Narcissa, and I are handed packages. My two envelopes are small – one holds a single key and the other holds a key and a deed. Draco is given several scrolls or parchment to go with a ring of keys to different rooms in the Manor. Lastly, Narcissa is given a rolled sheet of parchment and several velvet and silk bags of various sizes and weights.

With her free hand perched elegantly on the forearm of the elderly solicitor, Narcissa is escorted to the floo. Once she disappears, I intend to go to my flat to relieve Penny. Fingers brush tentatively across my shoulder blades and I turn. Draco's silvery eyes are almost frighteningly intense when they lock on mine. Like a magnet, I follow him out of the office into the street, then to a dimly lit alleyway between buildings. Emotions streak over his face too quickly for me to keep track of.

"I never thought I could hate him," he says quietly before breaking eye contact and looking up at the cloudy sky. "Yes, his dark side could scare me and his prejudice was maddening, but I could accept his flaws because no matter what he was, he was my father first.

"When I met you at Hogwarts, so many things he'd taught me as infallible truths fell completely apart. Then, when I actually got to know you…" his eyes burn back into mine, "… how could I _not_ fall in love with you?

"Lucius' scheming… his spells, potions, and greed… he robbed me _twice_. First, of the sister I didn't know I wanted. Someone to be an ally during the rare times I wasn't given my way. A partner to help me argue against the antiquated traditions that were being forced upon me as an adult. Someone who can understand how fucking _insane_ this family is when looking out from the inside. A person you can connect with no matter what."

"Drake…" I whisper and grab his hand. He doesn't pull away, but looks up at the sky again.

"Then we were made prefects during fifth year. Pucey and Summers paired us together for patrols so many times I was sure they were either match-making or had a pool on one of us killing the other. Those dark corridors gave me the chance to see you as more than the 'Mudblood teachers' pet'. I learned that you were smart enough to deserve every 'O' you got. You had a wicked sense of humor that shocked even the most jaded Slytherins when I repeated your jokes in my common room. You were so brave and determined that I was thanking Circe, Merlin, and Dumbledore himself for pairing us as co-heads.

"Maybe it's because we were young. Neither of us had been in a serious relationship before. But you were everything I had ever wanted. I was hell-bent on keeping you, even if it meant being disowned. I'd been warned that it would happen."

I clasp his hand tighter, wanting him to look at me. "Drake," I try again. He ignores me.

"Mya, I would give every fucking knut in those subterranean vaults to have you back. I'd say 'to hell with it all' and take off to Greece or South Africa or India… somewhere where the name Malfoy means less than nothing… somewhere where we could be together like I dreamed."

I bite my tongue, knowing he needs to get this out. The vulnerability on his exquisite face is ripping my heart to shreds. Finally after several long moments of silence, he meets my eyes again.

"I know we can't. I'm not stupid or delusional. I know that you aren't in love with me anymore, but even if you were… well… I just know that we _can't_. You've had a lot longer to get used to this connection we have now but I'm going to need more time. So help me, I _can't_ be here as you and Mum and your son become more of a family. Being so close to you… seeing you and not being able to be with you… it would kill me slowly.

He heaves a deep breath and pulls his hand from mine. "Mya, what I'm going to ask goes against everything I believe in and have been taught. Mother needs someone to take care of her. I can already see her getting better after spending time with you and Gavin. The two of you are what she needs. I hate having to ask this of you but… if I transfer the funds from my vault to yours, will you take care of Mum's needs? Her bills and allowance? I've known my whole life that she would be my responsibility, but I can't stay. I need to leave… to get away from all these reminders of what life _could_ have been if my father hadn't been a greedy and selfish prick."

Draco's pacing makes me slightly dizzy and I lean against one of the buildings to keep my balance. The movement seems to bring him out of his ranting and he stops in front of me, looking contrite and humble. "Hermione, I wouldn't ask this of you otherwise. Mum is _my_ responsibility and this isn't fair to you. If you truly object, I'll stay. I'll suffer through seeing you with Blaise and watch as the Wizarding world learns that the most famous and accomplished Muggle-born is actually a pureblood and a Malfoy to boot. You know it's not going to stay a secret. I will stay if you refuse, but you might as well _Avada _me for all the living I'll do. Hermione, the _only_ chance I can have at living is if I leave. Please."

I am certain that the number of people in history who have heard this kind of sincere pleading from a Malfoy could be counted on the fingers of one hand. I would have to be heartless to not be moved; I don't want Draco to hurt when I have the ability and means to prevent it. "Draco – stop. I understand. I'll take care of Narcissa for as long as you need me to. Just…" I grab his hands again to make my own request, "… stay in touch. Owl us to let us know you're okay. And don't stay away too long."

He gives me a mournful, bittersweet mockery of a grin, rolls his eyes, and quickly kisses my forehead before apparating away without another word. I know without a doubt that he'll be gone by the time I arrive at Malfoy Manor with Gavin and Penny.

I also can't deny that his absence will break my heart.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

When I return to my flat, Gavin is napping, Penny is out running errands, and Blaise is waiting patiently on my couch, still wearing the black slacks and dark gray button-down from the funeral. I slide off my heels when I exit the floo and sink next to him on the sofa. His strong arm wraps around my shoulders and pulls me closer. "The service was over a few hours ago… what took so long?"

Now that Lucius is dead, the binding spell will no longer stay my tongue. Draco was right that it couldn't stay a secret for long. "You want to hear something funny?" I ask by way of introduction. When he nods, I cuddle in closer. "Lucius Malfoy included Gavin and me in his will."

Blaise pulls back and stares, looking to see if I'm playing a joke or kidding. "And why would one of the most notorious pureblood supremacists leave anything to a Muggle-born he barely knew and her son?"

I think about trying to phrase the information subtly, but as I have no talent for the art, I decide quick and blunt is best. "You know that I was adopted by the Grangers, right?" He nods again so I continue. "Well, it turns out that Lucius and Narcissa are my biological parents." I hold up my hand to stave off the inevitable questions when his eyes widen and mouth gapes. "I don't really want to go into the convoluted reasoning that had me ending up in Kent with the Grangers except to say that my ancestors are bigoted, sexist, consummate Slytherins. A grudge between my grandfather and his father resulted in an _epic_ misunderstanding."

I know that's not going to be enough, but it seems like adequate information to hold off any of the big questions. So I think. "'Mione, I know you and Draco were together at Hogwarts," he starts hesitantly. "There wasn't any kind of baby-swap or kidnapping… he's your full brother?" I incline my head and feel the heat of my cheeks flushing. Blaise tilts my face up so he can look at me. "I'm not judging because neither of you knew. But please tell me honestly… I've never asked because it's none of my business, but Gavin… he isn't…"

I shake my head emphatically. "Draco is _only_ Gavin's uncle. I need to tell his father soon, but it's awkward to go up to someone almost three years after the fact and admit that the kid they've seen around town is, in fact, theirs. I'm almost certain that he wants things to remain the way they are now, but he deserves the choice. I planned on talking to him later this week."

Blaise grins down at me and kisses the tip of my nose. "This doesn't change anything, you know? Malfoy blood or not, you're still the enchantingly ingenious Hermione Jane Granger, star healer at St. Mungo's and amazing mum to Gavin Rigel. _Who_ you are is what keeps me coming back for more, not for your bloodlines or what you have in Gringott's. You're bloody brilliant, wickedly funny, fearless and determined to be the best at everything you attempt. Every time I see you, I learn something new about you that only makes me want to know more. And don't use 'Slytherin' as an insult, Love. If we were truly so bad, you wouldn't keep falling for us."

I roll my eyes while trying not to giggle. Blaise has a way of distracting me from my melancholy in the best ways and saying things that I really need to hear, be it for the better or worse. "I wasn't using it as an insult, but as a personality trait. Saying 'Slytherin' is more efficient that listing out sneaky, cunning, tricky, ambitious and selfish. How can I think 'Slytherin' is a wholly bad thing when almost my entire family tree might as well bleed green and silver? I may have been sorted into Gryffindor, but it was a close thing. I might just be the most serpentine lion in Hogwarts' history. I have absolutely _no_ illusions about who or what I am."

He grins and kisses my lips softly. "That might be your best quality. I look forward to learning _all_ about you so I can accurately compare."

We kiss and pet a bit on the couch until Gavin wakes up and interrupts with his toddler babble. I put together a snack for him and get him from his crib. His gleeful squeal when he sees Blaise makes me laugh. As I watch my son eat banana slices and play with his animal crackers with my boyfriend (_I guess that's what he is now_), I can't help but think…

At first one can only notice their surface differences: dark versus fair, muscular versus lean, laid-back versus serious… Draco and Blaise _seem_ like polar opposites. But once the surface is scratched, there's really no wondering why Blaise is the only bloke since Hogwarts to garner a second date… and more.

He's smart enough to carry an intelligent conversation and keep me on my toes. His sense of humor is just as mischievous as mine can be. Merlin knows he has the flirty bad-boy with a heart of gold thing going for him… a definitive Slytherin in every way. I grin when I realize I have a "type". I wasn't lying when I told Draco that I wasn't _in_ love with him anymore, but damned if I didn't find a man with the same qualities that made me fall for the Head Boy in the first place.

Gavin, Blaise, and I spend the rest of the afternoon together, watching movies playing games, and reading stories until dinner. After we put Gavin to bed, we make plans for my move to the Manor in the next few days.

Once I'm settled there, I know I have to talk to Theo. Other than the surprise, I'm not worried that he'll suddenly want to be part of Gavin's life. With the way his father has ostracized him for his relationship with Alexei, I wouldn't be shocked if he asked to be obliviated so Ted Nott _never_ learns her has a grandson to teach his prejudices to, even if the child is a (supposed) half-blood.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

I leave Gavin in his nanny's capable hands before I floo to St. Mungo's. Theo's shift in the spell damage ward will be ending shortly, giving me enough time to talk to him before my shift starts. I see his dark head exit the lift; I grab the back of his robes and tow him to the break room on the ground floor. When he sees it's me, he grimaces. "Bloody hell, Granger! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Best place to be if I did, aye Nott?" I say with a smirk. Despite having drunken sex once, beyond seeing him with my former flat-mate, we never really got to more than a hello/goodbye acquaintanceship. "So… yeah, I wanted to tell you something and I hope you don't take it badly." He does nothing but glare suspiciously, so I continue. "Well, you remember that first night in Baltimore?" He winces, so he does. "Yeah, well we were too drunk to remember precautions. That little blond boy you've seen me around with… he's yours." No one has ever said subtlety or tact were strengths of mine.

Every bit of color drains from his face as his turquoise eyes widen. "You… I mean we… I mean… _what_?"

I can't help rolling my eyes. "Our night of inebriated sex resulted in Gavin Rigel Granger. I can't get much plainer than that."

"But I thought he was Malfoy's. You've moved into the Manor and everything."

Damn, Slytherins gossip more than fourteen-year old girls! "Okay, new business – I'm the long lost Malfoy daughter. Draco is my brother… Narcissa and Lucius had me and…" I shake my head, "…never mind, not the point. I don't need anything from you, Theo. I just thought it fair to give you the choice. Do you want to acknowledge him or not? No pressure from me either way."

Theo closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "So you have the pureblooded heir that my father has been pressuring me for, now that you're actually a Malfoy? Do you know he's actually told me that he doesn't care if I'm with Alex as long as the 'venerable' Nott name doesn't die with me? I never wanted the wife-kids-family thing, even though it was expected of me. I still don't. Father is almost worried enough to remarry and try for a son that isn't bent… and more power to him. I don't care if I'm disinherited; Alexei and I make more than enough as healers to live comfortably. I just want to live my life the way I want. Honestly Granger, I really wish we could back up time by about fifteen minutes and avoid this conversation all-together."

"So that would be a 'no' then?" I ask dryly. I'm neither disappointed nor relieved. Nothing has to change, but I'm certainly less tense now that I did the right thing by telling him.

"That is a resounding no and if you're as smart as everyone says you are, you'll do everything in your power to keep my father from learning about him. But now that you're a Malfoy, you have power some of us could only dream of."

"My family has nothing to do with my decisions. I'm moving into the Manor to care for Narcissa in Draco's absence. She seems to be getting a bit better, but she'll never totally recover from what Lucius did to her. Due to your specialty, you'll probably see her more than once since her _dear husband_ thought the best way to treat her was to regularly drug her. I only thought it fair to let you know why I'll be attending many of her appointments. My Malfoy lineage isn't going to be a surprise for much longer. Once the attorney files Lucius' will with the Ministry, the moles and spies there will give everything to The Prophet. You know that."

He nods with a scowl and shoves his hands in his pockets before walking away. There wasn't really anything left to say, so I head for the lifts. I start my shift feeling oddly relieved. All of my loose ends are getting tied up nicely.

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><p><strong>AN: This is NOT the last chapter. There is one more coming up and I'm pretty sure it's going to be a long one. I'm still working on it, so... *sigh*. I will try to get it up as soon as I can. Any thoughts on this partial chapter (although still pretty complete) would be greatly appreciated.<strong>

***oh, if you want an ironic chuckle, check out the flag for the country of Martinique. Besides the fact that it's warm and French, it's the reason I picked it.***


	21. Chapter 20

**AN: I'm terrible I know. Between frustration over the HUGE lemon in this chapter combined with sick babies, sick babysitter, sick author, sick beta and sick beta's computer crashing, the delay was really unavoidable. But I got this out as soon as I was able to (With MUCHO thanks going to RealJena for her awesome beta job) and hopefully the 10k+ word count will make up for it, at least a little. Enjoy.**

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><p>"Bloody hell, Mi… this looks like a hotel! All of this is Gavin's?"<p>

I stare in awe at the property in front of me, positive that the coordinates on the deed were wrong. "Blaise…" I mumble, "… I think it's bigger than the Manor."

"Oh, it is," Narcissa cheerfully confirms. "Lucius was rather irritated by that fact. We only came here once after we married – when Brielle died and the property passed onto him. My husband didn't particularly like the hot, humid weather. He was rather grumpy and uncomfortable the whole time."

My hand gets tugged impatiently and I look down to meet my son's curious turquoise eyes. I heft him onto my hip so he can get a better look; without being asked, Blaise lifts Gavin higher to sit on his shoulders, giving him the best view of all of us.

After the holidays, everyone residing in the Manor was feeling some cabin fever due to the cold, wind, and snow. I took two weeks off from the hospital and made the executive decision to explore Gavin's inheritance. Leaving Narcissa at the Manor wasn't even considered, especially since Penelope had taken over some of the caretaking duties for my mother along with watching Gavin. Blaise was more than happy to accompany us when I extended the invitation and a week and a half later, our international portkey was ready. A few minutes after our five hands were touching the empty wine bottle, we landed in the circular sandstone drive facing one of the largest houses I've ever seen.

The pale peach colored mansion dominates the property, bright with emerald colored grass and lush gardens with vivid, exotic blooms. Trying to shake off my astonishment, I tug on Blaise's and Narcissa's hands to get them to follow me up the marble steps.

The interior is no less overwhelming. Halls and corridors seem to jut off in all directions; I just know I'm going to get lost at least once while we're here. Looming arrogantly above the foyer is the portrait of a young woman with a dark complexion, indigo eyes, and strawberry-blond spiral curls that contrast sharply with her other features. She is by no means classically or conventionally beautiful, but there is something about her that is enchanting and captivating regardless. Her haughty expression doesn't change as she looks over Narcissa, Gavin, and me, but when those dark eyes glide over Blaise, she smiles beguilingly. "Well hello, Handsome. Who might you be?" she says with a thick French accent.

Apparently my grandmother was a bit of a flirt.

We all introduce ourselves to Brielle San Pitye (as the portrait was painted three years before she became a Malfoy) and explain our relations to her; she gives off an air of supreme indifference unless Blaise speaks. Finally I get her to give us directions to the family wing so we can unpack and relax.

Penny and Gavin share a suite so they can stay close like they do at home – two separate bedrooms with a shared sitting room that Gavin uses to play and a gorgeous en suite. Across the hall from them, Narcissa chooses a very feminine set of rooms done in pale blues, greens, and violets. When I walk through it with her, it seems comfortable, calm, and relaxing – exactly what she needs.

We look in some of the other doors and Blaise acts as though he intends to drop off his bags in the masculine counterpart to Narcissa's rooms. I silently shake my head and take him by the hand to lean him to the ornate oak double doors at the end of the hall. With a smirk and a quick kiss, he sighs, "Thank Merlin!"

I can't help but giggle; it turns into a gasp as we enter the master suite. The only room I've seen that compares in size is the Great Hall. I can see the gray sand of the beach from the wall of Western-facing windows and I can't think of many things more relaxing than curling up on the attached balcony with a book or just watching the sunset to the soundtrack of crashing waves.

I turn to the right and gulp at the opulence of the master bath; the Prefect's Bathroom looks like a highway rest-stop in comparison. The counters and tile are an iridescent gray-blue marble and flickers of reflected light dance on the walls. The tub is sunken into the floor with at least fifty charmed faucets lining one side. A separate shower stall, surely large enough for both World Cup Quidditch teams _and_ their mascots, has more showerheads than I can count with a glance and glass doors etched with an abstract, floral design.

Not able to imagine what awaits me in the main chamber, I slowly turn back to the left. I've experienced several different levels of luxury: bare-bones comfort of The Burrow, affluent indulgences of both the Potters and the Grangers, the sometimes-lavish splendor of Sirius' home and the aristocratic grandeur of Malfoy Manor; nothing could have prepared me for the sheer extravagance before me.

Plush, charcoal gray carpeting cushions my feet. The pale bluish-silver silk adorning the walls is embossed with faint, tropical vines. A glossy oak desk rests in one of the corners near a window, with divots in the wood for inkwells and a built-in case already filled with rare, high-quality quills. But the most excessively hedonistic piece of furniture I've ever seen dominates the massive room – the bed.

Out of curiosity, I ask Blaise to lay on the colossal mattress so I can attempt to gauge the size. His six-foot-four frame looks absurdly small in the center of the imposing bed. Easily ten feet wide and twelve feet long, I might not sleep in the same spot the entire fortnight we're on vacation. Blaise murmurs that he can't wait to test that theory and I feel my cheeks flame in a blush.

I know I've been seen as a prude. Before Blaise, I didn't date. Draco and I hid our relationship and after my inebriated one-off with Theo, any free time I had was spent studying and taking care of Gavin. Once I returned to England, the only adults I spent time with were Penelope, Sirius, and Anita, with occasional meals with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and whoever they would be dating at the time. Meeting Blaise and his cousin on my ward when I did was a happy coincidence, but one I am exceedingly grateful for.

I'm pleasantly surprised by how patient the infamous ladies' man has been with me over the eight months we've been together. He accepts that Gavin comes first followed very closely by caring for my mother. He handled the revelation of my biological family with aplomb and mere curiosity. He doesn't tease when I get lost in research or testing for work and is an understanding sounding board when I need to vent my frustrations.

In addition, his hands can both comfort me and set me aflame. His kisses make me melt and his mind is seductive. Blaise has _no_ problem challenging me or standing up to me when I need it. When this trip was planned and he agreed to accompany my family to this tropical paradise, I decided it was time to get past my apprehension and take our relationship to the next level.

Still overwhelmed by the magnificence of the suite, we unpack before reuniting with the family. I meet with the house elves to let them know our schedules and needs. Narcissa wants to relax on the shady garden patio with a book and an iced tea; Blaise and I decide to head to the beach while Gavin and Penny nap.

I change into my bright blue bikini as Blaise digs out some black board shorts that I bought for him when I dragged him to the mall – I may be a pureblood, but I was raised as a Muggle and know just how fun non-magical shopping can be. Once we're changed, we walk the sandy path to the shore. When we break out of the shade created by the tree canopy, I can't help but close my eyes and savor the warmth of the Caribbean sun on my face.

Taking my hand, Blaise leads me to where the breaking waves just wash over our feet. The sand is soft and the water is warmer than I'm used to. With a soft smile and the realization that the area is virtually uninhabited, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and we walk down the beach.

The silence lets my mind wander. Since Draco left, he's faithfully owled our mother every week. She shares his letters with me happily. He's spent the past four months traveling, like he's wanted to for so long. From Scandinavia to the Orient, the Tropics to South America, he doesn't seem to stay in one place for very long. Narcissa and I are hoping that he'll be comfortable coming home soon. We both miss him terribly.

Blaise and I turn to head back to the house when he notices my cheeks and shoulders turning pink. My fair skin isn't used to such strong sun and I make a mental note to remember the sun-protection balm that I packed especially for this reason. Entering the house from the back, we're able to avoid my grandmother's flirtatious portrait. In the hall, we meet a still-sleepy Gavin and Penny. After checking on Narcissa, we decide that after the day of travel, we'll get an early dinner and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening relaxing and exploring the house. I summon one of the elves to lead us to the smallest dining room available while we decide what to eat.

The elf who responds to our call, a little thing named Kanbiz, suggests meekly that we enjoy the seafood dishes they specialize in. Always interested in something new, we all agree. The new tastes and flavors are certainly different, but spicier than Gavin and I are used to. He and I stick to the milder rice, crab, and prawns while Blaise, Penny, and Narcissa rave over the Creole seasonings.

Once we're sufficiently stuffed, Narcissa suggests we stroll through the gardens, enjoying the warm twilight and the exotic scents from the unusual blooms. Blaise swings Gavin up onto his shoulders and follow her lead.

It's like entering another world. English gardens are filled with muted violets and pinks, with an occasional red or yellow to brighten the landscape. These tropical blooms don't understand the term "muted". Violent purples, psychedelic oranges, electrifying blues and vivid crimsons shock the eyes while the heady scent makes me lightheaded. Proper English lavender and rose bushes wouldn't know what to think of these showy flowers with their spiky petals. We follow the well-maintained paths until they circle back to the shaded patio where my mother spent her afternoon.

Kanbiz meets us and tells us that he will show us whatever we want. Narcissa and Penny both want to find the library (as do I, but that goes without saying). Once there, Penny finds some books for Gavin and herself, while my mother finds a selection or two. The small elf shows us to the music room, the breakfast nook near the kitchen, and surprisingly, a large outside playground for someone Gavin's age.

When I ask why it looks it such pristine condition, the elf's squeaky voice responds (with a very thick accent), "Master Draco ordered it. He arranged for it near Christmas, he did. Said he wanted somewhere safe for his nephew to play. Said he deserved to have some fun where drowning wasn't a constant danger. Sweet man, Master Draco."

I can't help but get choked-up over Draco thinking of my son. Blaise squeezes my hand in understanding after he puts Gavin down to explore the equipment. He only agrees to come back inside after multiple promises that he'll be able to return tomorrow.

We all decline the offers to see the ballroom_s_, the guest suites, drawing rooms, parlors, tea rooms, spas, greenhouses, and other, more obscure rooms that I can't remember. After the filling meal and the already-lengthy tour we've taken, all five of us are ready to retire. Kanbiz bows politely before disapparating and we make our way back to the family wing.

Penny goes to her room while I bathe Gavin and get him ready for bed, dressing him in his favorite dragon pajamas. I read him some child-friendly tales from Beedle the Bard until his dark turquoise eyes get heavy and finally drift closed. I press a soft kiss to his forehead and tuck his blankets securely around him, adding a cushioning charm to the floor in case he tosses and turns in the strange bed.

I bid Penny a good night and pop my head into the single suite, asking Narcissa if she needs anything before I head to my room. She shakes her head with a smile and kisses my cheek. I can't help but wonder what growing up with her would have been like, but thoughts like those can only go down bad roads. I shake my head to rid them and head to the massive double doors of the master suite.

The shower is running when I enter the master suite. I bite my lip and stare out of the windows at the moon reflecting on the ocean. The last man I was with intimately was Theo and it was… less than perfect. More than three and a half years of celibacy isn't something I've spent a lot of time worrying about; I have enough on my plate with my son, mother, and job. It would be a lie to say I _never_ felt the stirrings of desire, especially when I was in my second trimester and my admittedly good-looking male suitemates had _no_ problem walking around in just their boxers. I never would have pursued anything, especially since one of them was involved with the man two floors down, but it was very nice to just look. Until Blaise and I became serious, sex just wasn't something I was preoccupied with. After it was clear that he was staying exclusive to me and waiting until _I_ was ready for more, it was occupying more of my thoughts.

I hang up the sundress I wore as a cover-up and untie the bikini I never changed out of when we returned from the beach. Summoning my Gryffindor courage, I quickly use my wand to perform a contraceptive charm, turn to the left, and enter the en suite naked as the day I was born. Through the glass door, only slightly foggy from steam, I watch the water sluice down Blaise's golden brown skin. He's muscular but not bulky, just clearly defined. His shoulders are wide, chest is broad, and his torso tapers down to narrow hips. Long legs that go up and up until they come together at an arse that is… mmm... _mouthwatering_. With his back to me, I quietly slide open the door to join him under the water. "Could you pass me the soap, please? I'm all sticky from the salt air."

When he jumps, I can't help but giggle. He turns around slowly with a stunned look on his face. We've kissed and touched, but this is the first time I've seen _all_ of him and he's seen _all_ of me. With the way his eyes roll up and down my body, it's like he's trying to fixate the image in his memory as though he'll never see it again.

That's _not_ something he has to worry about if I have my way.

Still silent, he hands me the bottle of body wash that he brought in with him. It has a fresh, briny scent like the ocean that makes him smell absolutely intoxicating. I squeeze a little into his hands and turn around, twisting my hair and clipping it to my head. "Can you get my back for me?" I ask coyly. For such a huge step in our relationship, I don't see why it should be a solemn and serious event when one of my favorite things about "us" is how we can have fun with each other. It can be playful and teasing at the same time as passionate and romantic…

I start to reconsider until his face lights up with a smile. "_Bella_, you are stunning. Seeing you like this made my brain stop for a moment. I will help you get to whatever _hard to reach_ spots you want me to." He rubs his palms together and smooths the lather over my back, lightly massaging my neck, shoulder blades, and lower spine as he goes. I close my eyes and revel in the feel of his strong hands touching me… relaxing me… turning me on more than I already am.

Slowly, tentatively, his hands circle lower to rest on my hip bones and gently pull me back against him. I feel a significant part of his anatomy hardening against my back. Tenderly, he tilts my chin so I'm looking up at him over my shoulder. His bright green eyes lock on my dark ones intensely before ducking down to kiss me. We've had quick smooches, kisses in greeting or farewell, romantic brushes of our lips, and even passionate making out with tongues and teeth and fingers grasping for skin under clothes. _This_ kiss is different from all of them. Still cupping my jaw, his other arm slides around my abdomen and clasps me against him. I link my fingers with his and reach behind me with my other hand to tangle my digits through his wet raven curls. Feeling rather than hearing the growl from his throat when I lightly tug, I grin against his mouth and press my back against his front even harder.

His teeth nip and tug at my lower lip and I slide our joined hands up my stomach and chest until his palm rests on my breast. Blaise groans into my mouth and massages the soft flesh with my encouragement. Soon my whimpers are too much and he turns me so we're face to face. With one large hand at the small of my back and the other thrust into my hair, he pulls me to him tightly and returns his lips to mine. I can do nothing but grasp at his slick shoulders and dripping hair, trying to keep my knees from giving out from under me.

Cupping my bum, he lifts my smaller frame to close the height difference. Seconds later, I feel the cold tile against my back and I feel the tingle of my skin erupting in goosebumps. Blaise chuckles and adjusts one of the many showerheads so that warm water runs down the marble wall behind me, but not coming down over me.

Bright, spring green eyes darken to the forest green of pines as he holds me close. "Do you want me, _cara_? I've wanted you like this for so long… I don't know if I can let you go if you let me have you."

Those words make me shiver, feeling more desirable than I have in a long time. I wrap my arms tighter around his neck and meet his eyes. "I want you, Blaise. Show me what it's like to be yours."

His chest rumbles with a lusty groan as he claims my lips again in a heated kiss. The vibration against my breasts tickles and I can't help but giggle into his mouth, making him chuckle as well. Using the wall and one strong arm to support my weight, he gropes behind us blindly for the handle to turn off the water. With a satisfied murmur, the showerheads drip to a stop. Not bothering to grab a towel or put me back on my feet, he shifts me until he's carrying me bridal-style across the suite, where he lays me tenderly on the bed, looking down at me.

Blaise lifts my left foot and kisses the tip of each of my toes while kneading the sole. "You're so soft, _cara_. Soft and silky and just… perfect."

In the moonlight from the wall of windows, his skin glows, looking like the most luscious combination of chocolate and caramel ever. Watching his dark hands smoothing over my pale skin as he slowly rubs his way up my legs might be one of the most sensual things I can remember seeing. _Ever_. His fingertips skim lightly over my thighs and hips, grazing my stomach and the sides of my breasts. By the time he reaches my collar bone and neck, he's hovering over me with his superior height. He dips down and nips at my ear and pulse point on my neck before tenderly kissing my forehead… my eyelids… my nose and cheekbones… before brushing my lips with his. "I can't stop touching you, Love. Do you like the way my hands feel on you?" he asks, just a bit louder than a whisper.

His touch, his looks, the heat in his eyes, the feel of his breath against my skin… all of it makes me wonder why we – no, _I_ - waited so long. I lightly scrape my nails up his back and smile when his eyes roll back a little. "About as much as you like how I touch you," I answer his question and get one of his bright smiles in return.

With a satisfactory answer, he resumes with using his mouth to caress me, kissing, nipping, sucking on my neck, my clavicle, my shoulders. He works his way down until he's hovering over the valley between my breasts. With a long, slow swipe of his tongue, he licks me from sternum to the hollow in my throat before lifting his head to place another passionate, lusty kiss to my mouth. "How do you taste so heavenly, Mi? Your skin tastes like…" he sucks lightly on one nipple, making me gasp, "…honey and…" he licks over the other one, making me shiver, "… vanilla and…" he kisses my mouth again roughly, "… something too exquisite to name."

He doesn't linger in any one spot for very long. Lightly callused thumbs strum over my sensitive nipples as he softly nibbles on my earlobes and the tender spot of my neck where it meets my shoulder. It feels like every nerve ending has become a live wire, wanting him to make contact and send the pleasurable shocks through my body. "Please, Blaise," I whimper, rubbing my thighs together for some kind of friction, wanting to relieve some of the ache that his touch has brought.

With a wicked grin, he _ y_ works his way down my torso from his current spot where he was leaving little love bites around my left nipple, making sure they would be covered by my bikini. His thumbs massage over my hip bones, gipping them gently when I squirm, ticklish at his tongue dipping into my navel. "I want to taste you everywhere, _amante_. I just know this sweet little quim is going to be even more luscious than the rest of you." His words fire me up, but no one's done _that_ since Draco and I can't help but tense up. "Relax, _bella_. We don't have to… but I want to. I want to do nothing but give you pleasure tonight. This evening is all for you, Hermione. I can't remember the last woman I've wanted as much as I want you."

_Wow_. I meet his earnest eyes and can't help but be convinced by the desire, passion, and lust reflected back at me from the deep green. Still slightly anxious, I give in and nod. He gifts me with another dazzling smile and drops to his knees before me. My legs dangle off the edge of the bed and he wetly kisses his way up my calves, nipping lightly behind my knees, giving me fresh goosebumps. His hands precede his mouth and grip my hips again as his lips peck their ways over my thighs. Locking his eyes back on mine, his talented tongue swipes through my folds.

I can't stop the shaky moan that erupts from my chest. It's been entirely too long since I felt something so simple feel _that_ good. Encouraged by my response, Blaise repeats the action over and over, teasing me to the brink over and over. I'm sure that I'm going to explode before he lets me fall over the edge like I _so_ want to. Sparkling jade eyes can see the pleading on my face and he decides to be merciful. His tongue pushes into me with Slytherin-like dexterity as his fingers circle and slip over my bundle of nerves, bringing me closer and closer until blinding fireworks of silver and gold erupt behind my eyelids. The muscles in my thighs quake with the released tension… but Blaise doesn't stop. Seamlessly his tongue and fingers switch places and my orgasm keeps cresting. I feel my back arch off the bed and hear babbling nonsense somewhere far in the background of my consciousness. Never have I felt anything so powerfully pleasurable and only when I'm having trouble breathing does he calm his actions and let me come down.

Blurrily, I see him rise to his feet between my legs and I wipe a hand over my sweaty face. "That was…" I sigh breathlessly, "… I don't even have words…" I trail off.

With a smug grin, he looks down on me. "If I've rendered the know-it-all speechless, that I've succeeded in one of my goals… but I'm _nowhere near_ done with you yet, _cara_. I've dreamt of the things I want to do to you, and with you, for too long."

His erection stands proud and ready between his muscular thighs. My mouth simultaneously goes dry and salivates at the sight. His entire body is like a work of art, and I look forward to whatever carnal activities that he has planned for the rest of the night… but all I want right now is his arms around me and his lips on mine. "Kiss me, Blaise," I whisper.

He gives me what I want and I savor the warmth of his skin against me, the hardness of his arousal pressing into my belly, the softness of his lips as he kisses his way up my body to my mouth. Wanting to feel more, I curl a leg around his hips and pull him closer. "Circe, _streghetta mia_, what are you doing to me? I normally have more control than this," he growls against my neck before nipping my pulse point. "You're ruining me, you know? I can't imagine feeling about anyone else the way that I feel for you." Using his fantastic upper body strength, he slips his arms under mine and pushes us both fully onto the gargantuan bed.

For endless moments, we simply revel in our closeness, kissing, touching, tenderly teasing with intimate caresses before it gets to be too much. His bright malachite eyes sweep over my bared form and I feel so small and delicate underneath him. "I'm ready for this, Blaise," I tell him. "Make love to me. Please…" I pant, not wanting to wait any longer.

After giving me a deep kiss, he shifts back to his knees with the most seductive smirk I've ever seen. He strokes himself a few times, making my whole body tense in anticipation. Taking my hands in his large ones, he hovers over me, pinning my arms over my head. "_Sei il mia angela_, Hermione," he breathes into my ear as he slowly pushes into me. My breath stutters with the fullness… the utter closeness and completeness I feel once his hips are flush with mine.

He doesn't move, just stares deeply into my eyes. "Merlin, Blaise…" I gasp, feeling muscles that haven't been used in so long stretching to clench around him snugly.

Gently he withdraws and pushes back in; his eyes roll back and his eyelids blink rapidly. "Fuck, _sei perfetta_…" he murmurs and his fingers tighten around mine.

I've always found his tendency to slip into Italian when he's overwhelmed endearing, but I don't want to have to mentally translate his comments when I just want to give myself over to what I'm _feeling_. "More… please… I want to feel you…" I can't help but whimper. "No more talking."

His jaw tenses and his eyes darken to almost black. "I don't want this to be over too quickly," he confesses. "You feel so good…"

I arch up to kiss him and it deepens his penetration, making us both groan at the sensation. "We have all night, _tesoro_," I whisper against his lips. "This is just the first act."

Lust and determination take over his beautiful face. After pulling out until just his tip rests inside me, his eyes blaze into mine. "I love you, Hermione," he says softly before his hips thrust hard and strong.

My breath is taken away by both the depth of his revelation and the physical intensity of his actions. A small part of my brain thinks it isn't fair for him to say what he did when I am in no condition to rationally respond, but I push that thought to the side. My nails dig into the back of his hands when his impressive length hits spots inside of me that haven't been stimulated in years. I feel the ball of crackling tension in my stomach compressing tighter, just waiting for from the little push to detonate it into an explosion of pleasure. "More… fuck Blaise… faster, please…"

He takes a moment to lift my thighs so my legs wrap around his trim waist. "Your wish is my command, _principessa_," he groans and flexes his hips in earnest.

"So… close… _please_," I wail, feeling my body preparing itself to crash. Switching to hold both my hands in one of his, he uses his free hand to strum my little pearl and ducks his head to suck on one of my nipples. The multitude of sensations does what he intends and I feel my walls pulsing and tightening around him. Ecstasy floods my limbs and I scream, unprepared for the sudden bliss. I feel Blaise swell inside me and dimly hear him bellow my name as he reaches his peak a few moments later.

After a few more lazy thrusts, he collapses to my side breathlessly and pulls me onto my side so my head rests on his shoulder. "You are amazing, Mi," he sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "I've never felt anything so…" he trails off.

I have to ask. "Was it a heat-of-the-moment thing?" I ask, hoping he knows what I'm referring to.

He shakes his head and turns to look at me. "It's something I've felt for… awhile. I can't pinpoint when, but I've been crazy about you from almost the beginning. Being with you like this," he says, "it felt… _right_ to finally say it. You and Gavin… Narcissa too… I can't imagine my life anymore without you."

My throat tightens and I struggle to keep my eyes from flooding from his sincerity. "I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you too, Blaise." I reach up to stroke his cheeks and press a sweet kiss to his neck.

"Give me a few more minutes and I'll show you again how much I do," he drawls with a devilish smirk.

We end up using every inch of that monstrous mattress that night. He takes me sweetly, drawing out the pleasure for us both. I ride him with his strong hands gripping my hips so tightly that I'm sure I'll have bruises. He enters me from behind, covering my small body with his large one. Only when the streaks of orange and pink of the sunrise reflect off the ocean water into the large windows do we allow ourselves to collapse in sheer exhaustion. Before I give myself over to sleep, I slip on a blue satin nighty, summon Kanbiz, and ask him to let my family know that Blaise and I are having a lie-in. He nods before popping away and I snuggle into Blaise's side, smiling sleepily when his arms wrap around me and hold me tightly. I'm physically drained, emotionally satisfied, sexually sated, and finally… relieved that I'm able to feel all this with someone other than Draco.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

It's jarring to return to England after sun and relaxation for two weeks. The late February chill makes me long for the tropical warmth of Martinique. Weeks and months pass, with the only change is that Blaise might as well live at the Manor. On Gavin's third birthday in April, after his party was over and we managed to get him to bed despite overindulging on cake and ice cream, Blaise leads me to the garden. He kneels down and shows me an art-deco style ring with one of the most brilliant diamonds I've ever seen up close. "My _padre_ left this to me in his will. It was his mother's engagement ring and my mother didn't think it was big enough. His parents were married happily for a little over eighty years and still looked at each other like newlyweds. I've already told you that I can't imagine my life without you and Gavin. Will you bless my life by giving me the honor of becoming my wife?"

I gasp and wipe the tears away on my cheeks that spilled over as soon as he presented the ring. During our years at Hogwarts, I wasn't ignorant of his reputation and "extracurricular activities". It's actually because of that that I nod. When I make my throat work, I confirm by saying "yes". When a (former) Casanova like Blaise willingly gets down on one knee to make a lifelong commitment to one woman without any pressure or ultimatums, I'm sure that he's ready to take the step. We celebrate our newly engaged status on a conjured blanket among the flowers, letting our bodies warm each other in the cool spring evening air. As we snuggle afterward, we discuss what kind of wedding we want. With Narcissa's health still unpredictable and the strenuous nature of my job, we decide to have a low-key ceremony at the Ministry with only immediate family and close friends in attendance.

Neither of us have to say that an important person to both of us with be absent. I know about the falling-out Blaise and Draco had over me, but I also know that Blaise misses one of the true mates he had from the age of eleven. I hope that time can mend their split, letting them become friends again despite everything. I hope that the relationship between he and I can be repaired as well. He and I both know that we can't be what we were, but I hope that time will let us at least regain the friendship we had before becoming romantically involved.

When they wake the next morning, we let my mother and son know of our engagement. Narcissa immediately gets fluttery with thoughts of parties and a wedding gala. As much as I don't want to burst her happy bubble, I tell her of the plans we've already agreed on. She still insists on accompanying me to London, saying every bride should have a special dress for her wedding day and that picking one out is _not_ something she's willing to miss out on. After some quick scheduling, Blaise offers to take Gavin for some miniature dress robes while Narcissa and I try to find an appropriate dress.

I don't find anything in the boutiques of Diagon Alley and its offshoots, so I convince my mother to take our hunt into Muggle London. Despite her apprehension, she decides to see it as an adventure and agrees. In the third shop we visit, I find it. It's a pale cream with delicate gold embroidery and off-the-shoulder with sheer cap sleeves. The tea-length skirt hits right between my ankles and knees and the fitted bodice compliments my petite frame. Finding a dress simple enough for my tastes and elegant enough for Narcissa's wasn't easy, but nowhere near as difficult as I feared. Feat accomplished, we find a deserted alley and apparate back to the Manor to rest before dinner.

Three weeks later, Blaise and I say our vows at the Ministry before Narcissa, Sirius, Anita, and Penelope. My friend/nanny manages to keep Gavin and Regulus from being too disruptive. Harry, Cho, Ginny, Dean, Ron, and Lavender join us for our celebratory dinner after the ceremony. For Blaise, his former housemate Daphne Higgs (nee Greengrass) and her husband Terrence appear along with Theo and Alexei as well as Daphne's sister Astoria and her beau. We receive their congratulations before they mingle with our other guests, house rivalries (mostly) forgotten. I can't help but notice how Theo's eyes follow my son around the room with curiosity and interest as Gavin plays with his friend.

During a lull between courses, Blaise pulls me into a quiet corner. "Gavin is Theo's, isn't he?"

Not bothering to hesitate, I nod. "He doesn't want to acknowledge him. It's best for Gavin. Theo's worried that his dad would try to take custody since it's known now that I'm a Malfoy and Gavin's a pureblood. It's not likely that it would happen, but neither of us want to put Gavin through the stress of a custody trial. Why? What gave it away?"

Blaise's smile is sweet and nonjudgmental. "His eyes. I knew from the first time I saw him close-up that I'd seen that I'd seen that turquoise before. Theo's eyes are the same color and even though they're faint, he's also where Gavin gets his freckles from. Now that I know, he really is a perfect mix of Malfoy and Nott."

I wrap my arms around his chest and stretch up on my toes to give him a quick kiss. "Thank you for understanding." We're interrupted by servers starting to bring in entrees. "We should probably rejoin our guests."

Narcissa surprises us by gifting Blaise and I with a two-week honeymoon to Japan. She says the architecture of Tokyo combined with the mystery of the Far Eastern Wizarding districts is an experience that every witch and wizard should have. I kiss her cheek gratefully after both she and Penny assure Blaise and me that they have no problem watching after Gavin in our absence.

A week later, after clearing the schedule with my floor supervisor at St. Mungo's, Blaise and I take our international portkey to Tokyo. We spend our days exploring the iconic buildings and hidden Wizarding shops; our nights are spent in sweaty, passionate, physical exertion. Every evening I fall asleep with my husband's strong arms around me and I can't imagine being happier. While in Japan, Blaise gives me a surprise gift. He had Theo sign away parental rights and had adoption papers prepared to have himself named as Gavin's father. When I sink to my knees in gratitude, Blaise jokes that he wishes this was a gift he could give again and again... before his eyes roll back and he loses the ability to speak.

Gavin runs to greet us when we return home. He jumps up to give us big hugs and babbles about what he did while we were gone before we've even dropped our bags or taken off our jackets. The most noticeable change is the tiny terrier following the boy. "This is Charlie. Unca Dray brought him for me. He said every boy should have a pet. He said that he got an owl when he went to Hogwarts, but always wanted something to play with when he was little."

Uncle Dray? Blaise and I look at Narcissa when she comes into the room. "He visited while you were gone. He was here for ten days." Her smile is tense. "I didn't realize how much I missed him until he was gone again." Penny takes Gavin and his puppy out into the yard to play so I can talk to my mother uninterrupted. "It's not fair that I'm constantly missing one of my children. I didn't even know you until you were an adult and now that I have you, Draco is gone."

The smile falls off her face entirely and gives way to tears. "Why am I so condemned to feel this emptiness? I did my best to be a good mother… I was a faithful wife, a dutiful daughter, and Merlin knows I lived for my child, even though I wasn't well. I would have done the same for you if I had known…" She trails off before looking up with fire in her blue eyes. "Oh, I could just kill Lucius all over again for doing this! To all of us!"

Even though she seems lucid, I worry that she's going to lose control of her emotions. Blaise places a floo-call to Theo as her primary healer and moments later, he's stepping through the floo. He gently leads her back to her room and gives her a calming draught that he developed while we were at Wenlock – more herbal ingredients with no addictive components and the same end result. He helps her regain control over her magic and convinces her to take a soothing bath before dinner. Once she agrees and he leaves her rooms, he pulls Blaise and I off to the side.

"She'll be okay for a while, but Draco had to call me twice while he was here. It was mainly the same thing – bitterness about what Lucius cheated her out of and the spells he used on her. Her magic is very volatile and the calming draughts are not a long-term solution. I hate to be the one to say this, but if her episodes become more frequent, there may not be an option other than institutionalization."

When I open my mouth to furiously object, Blaise grabs my hand. "Love, this is _his_ specialty. Listen to what he has to say."

With a nod of thanks, Theo goes on to make a list of some small things that we can do, but eventually Narcissa is going to need round-the-clock care by someone who can head off her loss of control before her magic goes haywire. At my request, he also gives me a list of some retired healers and medi-witches/wizards that may be willing to take on private in-home care; I can't bear the thought of her locked up in a ward at St. Mungo's.

I give him a grim smile in thanks and sink to the sofa, overwhelmed, while Blaise escorts Theo back to the floo. When he returns, I sink into his willing embrace. "Not what I was expecting for a homecoming. I feel so bad for her. What the bloody hell was Lucius thinking to do this to his wife?"

Blaise holds me tighter. "He was thinking that as a pureblood husband, he needed to do everything in his power to provide his wife with the lifestyle she was accustomed to and have enough to leave a substantial legacy for his heirs." At my look of incredulity, he hastens to explain. "When he married Narcissa, there were certain oaths he had to make. If he were to lose his family fortune because of his father's will – which no one knew was tampered with until too late – he could have been in danger of having the marriage nullified for breach of contract or some other penalty that was even more unpleasant. For a man that prided himself on his intelligence, I have to say that he was really rather stupid when it came to Narcissa. Despite his reprehensible actions, I do honestly believe that he thought he was doing what was best for her… _and_ himself."

Cradling my bowed head in my hands, I take several deep breaths. I hate seeing my mother fall apart and realize that my birth was partially responsible for her husband contributing to her decline. Finally I wipe my cheeks and pull myself together, pasting a bright grin in place. "Let's go visit with Gavin and hear about Charlie. A three-year old isn't able to fully care for a puppy, so I should check with Penny about the actual breed and find some books on training."

My husband sees through my attempts at nonchalance and gives me a hug before we head out to the garden. "You don't have to carry everything alone, Mi. You have me now. You know that Sirius and Anita are there for you. The Potters and Weasleys too. And Draco. As bitter as he might be about… well, _everything_, this is his family too and he's not going to leave you to flounder."

His words give me a measure of comfort and, holding hands, we head to the open garden doors to see my son rolling in the grass giggling, being pounced on my the curly-furred puppy. I watch, feeling my face relax into a genuine smile. I can tell that little moments like these are what I will need to get through the dark spots.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

"Come on, Hermione. You can do this," Blaise says in a cheery voice and I really want to punch him.

"Since you're so bloody cavalier over there, you take over," I growl panting between pushes and contractions. Neither of us planned on a baby so soon, but I recognized the symptoms about a month into the new year and remembered my Christmas gifts of lingerie may have caused my usually careful husband to forget precautions, which brings us to this late September day.

"You know I would if I could, Love. Just a few more pushes and Gavin will have his little sister. Although why he wants to name _her_ Charlie too is still a mystery."

_Our_ son, now that the adoption had been finalized, was strangely obsessed with the name. I manage a strangled chuckle when another contraction starts and I have to push through the pain again. The medi-witch watches our interaction in silent bemusement but keeps her focus on my labor's progress. Finally, twenty minutes later, Aquila Evaine Zabini comes into the world squalling, very unlike her uber-calm father. Once she's clean, the medi-witch hands the bundled newborn to Blaise, who holds her out to me. I look at her in silent wonder.

Unlike Gavin, who had pale blonde peach fuzz at birth, Aquila has a head covered in ebony curls and her newborn-blue eyes already have a ring of spring green around the iris. Her caramel skin is smooth, her fingers are long and dainty, her lips a dark pink Cupid's bow. "Blaise, she's perfect," I whisper, not wanting to startle the baby by speaking too loudly.

He nods, too emotional to speak and presses a kiss to our foreheads before getting Narcissa and Gavin from the hall where they wait anxiously. Our son, only four now, doesn't find the infant very entertaining as she doesn't share his interest in puppies, dragons, or race cars. My mother, however, has an unexpected reaction.

"Your sister looked a little like her," she says dazedly. "Lighter skin, naturally, but the same dark hair. She would have had Lucius' gray eyes though. I would have named her Lyra… you would have been Caelia Sagitta…" Carefully, she lifts the newborn from my arms and cradles her tenderly. "I only got to hold you once, right after you were born. Lucius paced the halls instead of holding my hand like your husband did for you. I wonder if he would have acted differently if he had seen you enter the world."

Rather than be pleased that Narcissa is regaining memories that seemingly were erased, it causes me concern. Those memories should have been fully erased almost twenty-five years ago. I look at Blaise apprehensively and he nods, agreeing to call Theo when he gets a moment. Spontaneously returning memories could cause her magic to flare and with a new baby in the house, it could be especially dangerous. However, the haziness clears from her eyes and she excitedly chats about the plans she has as a grandmother to a little girl. I have to grin because I'm thinking if I had grown up as her daughter, I may well have been too exhausted by the age of eleven to attend Hogwarts. Neither Blaise nor I can find the heart to quell her enthusiasm, but we exchange uneasy glances over our newborn's head. My mother's volatility is a serious worry.

While Aquila nurses, Blaise floo-calls Theo and tells him about the returning memories. Like we thought, my fellow healer is more than concerned. One of his trainees, an Eleanor Branstone, is willing to live-in part time to keep an eye on Narcissa. After meeting the cheerful former Hufflepuff, we agree and I ask my house-elf Marley to set up the suite across from my mother's rooms for the girl. Theo, Blaise, Penny, Ellie (as she wishes to be called), and I work out a schedule so that Narcissa is never left totally unattended. It's not too difficult, but gets trickier when I return to the hospital after my maternity leave.

After running myself ragged for two months straight (and a frustrating outbreak of vanishing sickness) and missing my babies, I decide to take an open-ended leave of absence. I assure my floor supervisor and the corporate heads that I plan on continuing my work with vaccines and immunities at home, using the hospital's lab when necessary, but I need to be able to do it at _my_ convenience. They grumble and groan, but don't have any other choices but to accept my terms or lose my talents entirely. We set an amount they will provide for supplies and what I will be paid for finished potions and draughts. I pack up the few personal items I keep in my little cubicle and apparate home, anxious to return to my family.

Blaise couldn't be happier that I'll be home to tend to our children while still employing Penny so I can work. Unwilling to give up his leisure time to find a job that he doesn't need, he offers to help transform the unused dungeon into a personal lab, making the hospital's crowded and overpopulated laboratory obsolete. When the work is done, I have a potions' workshop that Snape would give his wand hand for. Blaise and I christen one of the marble tabletops before I sterilize the room and make a list of ingredients I want to always have on hand in my pantry.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Two and a half years later, I sign for a delivery from Canada. Seeing they are the berries I want to experiment with for a rheumatism tonic, I label the vial and make room for the jar next to the powdered and pebbled black moonstone I keep on-hand for the Draught of Peace that keeps Narcissa balanced and rational. Standing straight, I lean back and try to stretch my back, straining from extra weight at my middle, swollen at seven months gone. Gavin, at almost seven years old, is a precocious child with an abundance of curiosity. I have to keep my lab and potion stores magically locked to keep his inquisitive mind from experimenting with dangerous ingredients. Aquila is just as intelligent as Gavin was at her age, but is more interested in the charmed dolls that Narcissa gives her and takes scraps of fabric to Penny to have her charm the material into designs of her own creation.

After checking the cauldrons and their contents, I see I have about three hours before I need to move onto next steps or remove the brews from the flames. I cast my locking charm as I exit my lab and make my way up the stairs. Meeting my mother on the main floor, I give her a quick hug. "I'm heading to lie down. Do you need anything?"

She gives me a weak smile and rubs her hand over my bump. "No, dear. I know you must be worn out. I remember how exhausting the last three months are. You're lucky, though. You seemed to like kicking my lungs. I couldn't take a deep breath without you knocking it right back out. Draco and your sister seemed to concentrate on my bladder."

It was nonchalant comments like this that continued to concern everyone. Unlike my last pregnancy, more and more of her lost memories return with each stage of this one. While they don't seem to initially affect her, she almost always needs a calming draught or soothing tea later in the day to ease her mind. It's hard for her to determine which are real memories and what are the falsehoods that Lucius charmed her to believe.

I give her a kiss on the cheek when she declines my offer to share a cuppa with her. Once in my suite, I set a timer to wake me in two hours and rest my head, falling asleep quicker than I thought I could. But it's not a buzzing that wakes me; my husband frantically shaking me does the job.

"Mi, Narcissa's really sick. Ellie's at Mungo's and Theo is on vacation. Come quick!"

I try to rub the sleep from my eyes and try to force my brain out of nap-induced lethargy. Blaise half-drags me down the hall to my mother's suite, where I can already hear retching. Without formality, I charge into the room and feel her head. "Narcissa, what's happening? What's wrong?"

Between her heaving, I manage to make out a few things that she says. "Added moonstone to tea… balance and peace… always worked before… tasted wrong…"

I run down to my lab and find the door unlocked and open. The powdered moonseed I ordered sits on the counter and I gasp. In this unaltered form, it's toxic and likely fatal. Moving as fast as my front-heavy body will let me, I scream for Blaise to get Narcissa to the floo. With my authorization, the three of us are able to floo directly to the third floor and I grab the first healer I see. Blaise settles my mother into a cubicle and I take her vitals as I tell Healer Vaisey what has happened. We don't have time to waste waiting for a trainee or a diagnosis when I already know what's wrong.

While the healer and his colleagues scan through journals and books to find an antidote, Narcissa starts convulsing, her sapphire eyes rolling back in her head. I call for Blaise while I try to hold her, keeping her from falling off the cot. "Owl Draco. As far as I know, the moonseed doesn't have an antidote. If she's having convulsions, it's not going to be long. He needs to get her as soon as he can."

Seeing the urgency in my eyes, he nods and grabs some parchment from the healer. I'm sure the note is a barely legible scribble, but with a wave of his wand, the parchment is cleared of ink splatters and the words are made clear. He apparates to the post office in Diagon Alley to post the letter and back again. The only one of us who many know how far away Draco is is unable to tell us… anything.

Blaise paces behind me as I hold my mother's unconscious hand, hoping that Draco isn't somewhere like New Zealand or Cape Horn or somewhere equally far and remote. I silently berate myself, feeling I should have added stronger locks and wards to my lab or realize that Narcissa would take it upon herself to pinch from my stores. Blaise kneads my shoulders when I bow my head to rest in on the cot next to my mother's leg. As the adrenaline leaves my body, I grow drowsy again and let myself nap while my husband keeps a lookout for my brother.

Heavy footsteps wake me a little more than an hour later. With barely a glance at me, Draco grabs Narcissa's hand from my slack grip and smooths her golden hair away from her forehead. "Mum? I'm here. Please… wake up for me." Not getting a response after several tries, he summons a chair from across the room and takes a seat next to me.

"You got here sooner than I expected, Draco. Where were you?" I have to ask. It's been more than four years since I've seen him.

He still doesn't look at me. "Spain and Portugal… France and the Mediterranean coast… The owl reached me in St. Tropez. I apparated straight here. What the bloody hell happened? You were supposed to watch her!"

Nothing he could say could have hurt more. "I tried, Drake! She grabbed the wrong bottle from my potions pantry. I hadn't noticed her taking pinches of different ingredients to add to her tea whenever she wanted. Today she grabbed moonseed instead of the moonstone that she wanted _after_ using magic to get past my locks. Maybe I wasn't as cautious as I should have been, but it was an accident."

His eyes finally turn from Narcissa's unmoving form to my face then down to my midsection. "I take it you're happy being married to the Manwhore of Hogwarts?"

"Uncalled for, Draco," I say before Blaise can blow up. "You haven't been around. You have no right to pass judgment on my marriage or the man my husband is _now_. He's a wonderful husband and an amazing father. You'd know that if you were around more."

"Mother wrote me that you had a little girl a couple of years ago. She looks just like Blaise with lighter skin… Mum sent a picture. Gavin's looking more and more like Theo with blond hair. Maybe that one," he gestures toward my bump, "will look like you."

Blaise's bright green eyes narrow at his disdainful attitude toward our children, but I shake my head at him. Draco has a lot to deal with, our past being one of the most minor ones, especially after all this time. It's a certainty at this point that Narcissa's time on this plane of existence is almost gone. That loss is going to hit him harder than any he's had to experience yet.

Healer Vaisey returns and silently waves his wand over my – our – mother for an update. "Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Zabini… I hate to say that if Mrs. Malfoy hasn't regained consciousness by now, there isn't anything left that we can do. The poison has affected her organs. The only thing we can do is make her comfortable until…"

Hearing the confirmation, I turn my face into my husband's chest, unable to stop my tears. Draco's left fingers clasp around my hand while his right hand still holds Narcissa's. My only hope for her remaining time is that she is pain-free while her liver and kidneys shut down and that she is floating in oblivion… back to remembering the happiness in her life before her husband's misdeeds came to light and old memories started resurfacing.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Narcissa passes on two days later. Blaise brings the kids by to say goodbye to their Nana, though Aquila doesn't truly understand. Neither Draco nor I leave the whole time, hoping against hope for some kind of miracle that never comes. Both of us are holding her hand when her heart stops beating.

I take Draco back to the Manor; I don't want him to attempt apparating in his grief. Marley had already prepared his old suite in anticipation of his arrival. Without a word, he heads up the stairs. I tell the children what has happened, which Gavin takes harder than I expected. He had grown rather close with Narcissa over the past several years and losing her is hard on my little man. With Blaise's help, I arrange for Narcissa's burial. I don't see Draco again until the service.

After the entombment and reading of her will (which was little more than splitting her Black heirlooms between my brother and myself), Draco asks me for a private word. I wave Blaise away to take the kids back to the Manor while Draco and I talk in the now-empty office.

"I owe you an apology, Hermione. My only excuse for saying the things I said to you at St. Mungo's is grief and exhaustion. I'm glad that you're happy with Blaise and your daughter is beautiful."

I can't help but smile. "Of course she is… she looks just like Blaise. But really Drake, you don't need to apologize. I understand. If our places had been reversed, I can see myself acting just as poorly. But if it's needed, you're forgiven."

He bows his head in acceptance and gratitude. "It seems as though the Zabini family is quite at home in the Manor…" he trails off uncertainly.

The Manor is his… to pass on to his son or daughter. "I haven't touched my vault beyond the interest for incidentals and gifts. I have more than enough to find another house. Nothing as grand as the Manor, of course, but that's too large for even a family of five. All I need beyond the basics is room for a lab so I can continue my brewing from home. I really need to find a Muggleborn or half-blood trainee to learn the process. You purebloods just don't understand immunizations and antibiotics."

He looks at me as though I'm speaking Greek before shaking it off. "You don't need to leave, Mia. Let's go home… I need to show you… something."

Confused, I follow him in apparating into the foyer of the Manor. Next to Blaise is a woman I've never seen before. Her honey brown hair curls in tamed ringlets past her shoulder blades and cinnamon colored eyes lock onto Draco in concern. Her skin, just a bit lighter than Aquila's, glows with health in the afternoon sun coming in through the windows. When she turns in profile to hug my brother, I can see the distinctive swelling at her own midsection and my breath catches involuntarily.

With his arm around her waist, he meets my dark eyes with his silvery ones. "This is Arella Tavares. She's from Sagres in Portugal. Her family runs some very successful Wizarding luxury hotels and we met while she was setting up the newest one in Monaco. We've been together for about a year and a half now." Draco looks at her with an adoration I used to see when he looked at me and I feel… comforted that he has someone to take care of him now that our Mother is no longer able to.

I hold out my hand with a bright smile. "Arella… it's so nice to meet you, even under the unfortunate circumstances." I shift my eyes to her midsection and back. "When are you due?"

Her hand smooths over her stomach and grins. "July. It seems so far away. And yours?"

I mimic her gesture. "May." Blaise steps to my side and I formally introduce my husband, and mention my napping son and daughter. "I'm so happy for you. Are you moving here or…?" I trail off with a questioning tone.

Draco fields the question. "I've taken over some duties for _Senhor_ Tavares, brokering accounts and networking to bring in more business." With an affectionate look at Arella, he continues, "Her mum was a Muggle-born and her father is a half-blood. I'm able to use my 'snooty' pureblood connections to bring in wealthier clients to lesser known vacation spots. We're going to keep working until Scorpius is born and decide where to settle then. If you want to live elsewhere, that's certainly your prerogative, but don't feel rushed on my account."

Feeling a huge weight off my shoulders, I thank him with a hug.

And for the first time, the hug feels truly like I'm holding my sibling, not an old friend… not a former lover… but my brother.

* * *

><p>*cara – dear<p>

*bella – beautiful

*amante - lover

*streghetta mia – my little witch

*Sei il mia angela – You are my angel

*sei perfetta – you're perfect

*tesoro – sweetheart

*principessa – princess

*Aquila – constellation "The Eagle", most visible in September

*Evaine – Aunt of Sir Lancelot

*Caelia – The Faerie Queen (Arthurian)

*Sagitta – constellation "The Arrow", most visible in September (Hermione's birth month. Also, Draco is most visible in July, which gave me the idea, since that's when he was _supposed_ to be born in my little world)

*Arella – Hebrew for messenger

*Hermione – Greek for messenger

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And there it is. Yes, Draco has a "type". I truly hope that this was an enjoyable adventure because heaven knows I LOVED writing it. And even though there's a little "C" next to it doesn't mean I don't love any and all reviews (positive or otherwise), no matter the time frame. And a huge thanks to everyone who has read this. If no one reads it, my brain drivel has no point other than occupying my fingers and netbook.<strong>


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